


getting hot under the collar

by likecharity



Series: Georgie strap-on 'verse?? [2]
Category: Chronicles of Narnia RPF
Genre: Age Difference, Crossdressing, Embarrassment, F/F, F/M, Feminization, Kink Discovery, Kink Exploration, Older Man/Younger Woman, Pegging, Sex Toys, Strap-Ons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-22 03:51:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10689207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likecharity/pseuds/likecharity
Summary: A Ben/Georgie spin-off ofdo it like a brother (do it like a dude). AKA THE CONTINUED ADVENTURES OF GEORGIE AND HER STRAP-ON, a billion years later when nobody cares anymore."Go on, what is it?" Georgie nudges him in the ribs with a sharp elbow and Ben sort of squeaks in a rather undignified way. She's giggling, definitely just winding him up but it still makes him squirm. "What, are you jealous? Of my prowess? Oooh, or—" an idea suddenly seems to occur to her, "—ofAnna?What, you want me to use it onyou?""NO!" Ben yelps, and it's so excessively loud and defensive that he suddenly realises what was making him so anxious: the thought that she might figure him out. The thought that she might realise what he only just realised himself.That he wants her to fuck him.





	getting hot under the collar

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so. Back when I wrote [do it like a brother](http://archiveofourown.org/works/469784), there was talk about a Ben/Georgie spin-off involving crossdressing and pegging, and I eventually wrote it, and then just...abandoned it for some reason when it was done. I have no idea if anyone is still even remotely interested in the idea, but the more time passes, the stupider it seems for me to have this totally finished fic just lying around on my laptop. So whatever. HERE IT IS. 
> 
> The events of 'do it like a brother' take place partway through, so you probably need to have read that to follow this properly (or reread it to refresh your memory), but if you're particularly loyal to Anna/Georgie and like to imagine that fic ended with them living monogamously ever after, this story might bother you. Also, Georgie is 17 and turns 18 before any actual sex with Ben happens.
> 
> This story takes place in 2013, which, when I first started writing it, was THE FUTURE. So now it is set in some kind of alternate past where The Silver Chair movie happened and Georgie didn't go to Cambridge. Not that any of that REALLY matters because the point of this is mainly just Ben/Georgie gender-play and self-indulgent Narnia cast slumber parties. Also it's RIDICULOUSLY LONG wtf, I did not realise how long this was. Enjoy??

Georgie shows up at Ben's flat one morning, holding a dress and looking disgusted.

"That's...nice?" Ben hazards a guess. It is—it's a deep purple colour with a black lacy layer over the top, about knee-length with a flowy sort of skirt and a squared-off neckline. It's exactly the kind of thing Georgie would have loved a few years ago, but—

"I'm not wearing this," she says, looking at him like he's insane.

Ben blinks at her for a bit.

"Some designer sent it to me," she elaborates (but somehow vaguely), "I'm not wearing it though, I've decided. It's too big, for one thing, but that's not why."

"Okay," Ben replies cluelessly.

"I want to wear a suit instead," Georgie continues. "Do you have any that I could try on?"

A few minutes later, Ben is sitting outside the closed door of his own bedroom as Georgie experiments with his wardrobe. He has consumed an entire cup of tea and at least half a packet of biscuits before she's finally done.

"Okay," she says from inside, so suddenly and after so much silence that Ben actually jumps. He drops a biscuit and swears, but Georgie ignores this response. "I think...I think this is kind of what I'm going for."

"Can I see?" Ben asks.

There's a long silence.

"George?"

"No," she says in a small, hesitant voice. "What if it looks silly? God, it looks silly, doesn't it?"

"I don't know," says Ben reasonably, "you won't let me see."

"I don't want you to," she replies, "I think I might look ridiculous."

Ben frowns to himself, munching thoughtfully on a biscuit for a good few moments before remembering it's the one he dropped on the floor. He stops abruptly, and then catches sight of the discarded dress lying in a heap on the hall floor. 

He has an idea.

"What if I look ridiculous too?" he asks.

"Well, that goes without saying," Georgie teases, "you often look ridiculous."

Ben sticks his tongue out at the door, and then puts his mug and biscuits aside and peels off his t-shirt with a sigh at what he's actually doing. He picks up the dress and it rustles as he pulls it over his head.

"What are you doing?" asks Georgie suspiciously from behind the door.

"Helping," Ben replies, voice muffled against fabric. "At least, I think so."

He wiggles around for a further minute or so, flailing his arms and bumping into the wall before realising there's a zip he didn't undo. Once that's sorted, he pulls the dress down properly and drops his trousers. 

"Okay," he announces, "I assure you, there's no way you can possibly look ridiculous now."

"Are you wearing what I think you're wearing?" Georgie asks, and Ben can hear the smile in her voice.

Ben opens the door, and Georgie bursts out laughing at the sight of him standing there in the doorway in a lacy purple dress.

"You're right," she says through her giggles, "I no longer look ridiculous."

Ben looks at her. His suit is a little too big for her, but that was to be expected. They're a similar height now, though, so it's really just an issue of the shoulders of the shirt and jacket being a little too broad, and she's had to bunch up the waistband of the trousers with a tight belt. But despite that, she actually looks so gorgeous that he's slightly taken aback. 

"I'm not sure you ever did," he manages.

She turns serious again, looking at herself in the mirror. "You think?" She pulls back her hair. "I wanted to look more, like, boyish, but my hair kind of ruins that..."

"Well," Ben says, and grabs a black trilby hat from where it sits on a large ceramic phrenology head on his desk, "this might help."

She giggles, bundling up her hair and letting him secure the hat on top. They both look in the mirror, and Ben cracks up at the sight of himself in the dress for a bit before they get back to the matter at hand.

"That looks kinda good!" Georgie grins. She presses her hands to her chest, then, saying, "If I bind my boobs, do you think it'll be obvious? Like, will the binding show?"

Ben flushes. "I don't know," he says awkwardly, "that's not really my area."

"I mean, I've done it before," she goes on, "but under like baggy t-shirts and stuff, so it's not that noticeable..."

She trails off, and they both look at her in the mirror again. Georgie's gaze flickers to Ben, and she grins, slinging an arm over his shoulders and tilting her hat.

"We make a good couple, doll," she says gruffly, and Ben can't help but giggle in response.

"We should totally go like this to the premiere," she says, then, and sounds suspiciously serious.

"There is no way that's happening."

"Oh, but you look so _pretty_."

Ben snorts, but he's slightly alarmed to discover that wearing the dress is not as much of an unpleasant experience as he expected. It's obviously a little too small, and he's pretty sure it looks completely stupid on him, but the actual _wearing_ of it feels kind of—well, he doesn't really know how to define it. It's kind of freeing, somehow, and standing next to Georgie, there's something about the role reversal going on here that gives him a funny feeling in his stomach. He decides it's probably got something to do with the fact that Georgie is growing up so much and so fast, since most of his recent funny stomach feelings can be attributed to that.

"I'm going to take this off now," he says after an uncomfortable pause, and Georgie pouts.

"Such a shame," she says, grinning wickedly in a way that does not help anything. "I was kind of enjoying the view."

***

That evening, Georgie pads barefoot across Ben's kitchen to his living room, beer bottle in hand, and stands there for a moment to drink. She's wearing little grey pajama shorts, a white vest, and a baggy plaid shirt, and with one hand on her hip and the other bringing the bottle to her lips, she looks suddenly and disconcertingly really, really cute. He watches the movement of her pale throat as she drinks.

"What?" she says then, grinning as she catches him staring.

"What?"

She wrinkles her nose at him and flings herself down on the sofa, long bare legs thrown over his lap. 

"Ben?" she says, picking at the label on the beer.

"Georgie?" he grins.

"Nothing," she says, and takes another swig of her beer and then shakes her head as if to dislodge some thought from her mind.

He frowns at her in concern. "You sure?"

She wriggles her legs across him, sliding one foot alongside the other. "Yeah," she says.

And then she's leaning forward, taking his face in one cold, condensation-wet hand and pressing a sudden kiss to his open lips. 

"I—wha?" is all he can manage.

"I have sex with girls," she blurts out, still inches from his face, looking him in the eyes. 

The number of things to which Ben isn't sure how to react is rapidly increasing.

"You—what?" he says, and then tries to pull himself together and deal with things in some sort of order. "You just kissed me."

"Yeah," Georgie says, as though this isn't really a big deal. "I also basically came out of the closet to you just now, and I don't like that you haven't reacted to that."

"Oh, well—" Ben stammers, "that—that's okay. I mean. I'm—you're still you. It's...fine?"

Seemingly satisfied, she smiles and leans back. He squints at her.

"You—you really have sex with girls?" he says, because it's one of the many thoughts whirling dizzily around his mind.

"Yeah," she says, beer held to her lips again and eyes on the TV.

"Which girls?" It's not a pervy thing, he tells himself, he's just having difficulty getting his head around this. Also, he feels oddly protective of her, though he knows she's not a kid anymore. The idea that she's having sex with _anybody_ is making him feel extremely weird.

"Just _girls_ ," she says, laughing and sounding a little embarrassed now, "girls from school." She pauses, then, looking sheepish. "Also maybe a friend of Rachael's."

" _What?_ Georgie!" Ben laughs in disbelief. "Are you winding me up?"

" _No!_ " 

He squints at her, still suspicious. The ad break on the TV comes to an end, and _School of Comedy_ comes back on again.

"Beth's so pretty," Georgie says after a long silence which Ben has spent staring at her kind of blankly. "I wonder if Will's still in touch with her."

Ben thinks about this. There are many things he could say, but in the end, he just shrugs and goes with, "She sort of looks like Anna."

Georgie considers this, head tilted on one side. "Yeah," she says, "yeah, actually, she kinda does..." She trails off, gazing at Beth Rylance on the screen, and Ben suddenly puts together a whole bunch of previously unconnected things in his mind.

"You don't..." he says thoughtfully, "you don't have a crush on _Anna_ , do you?"

Georgie makes a face and says " _Ben_ , no," but she also goes bright red and squirms, so that gives him his answer.

"Is that what this is about?" Ben teases. "You're gonna wear a suit to the premiere and seduce her with your manliness?"

"Bennn, shut up," Georgie wails, giggling, and they proceed to miss the entirety of the next sketch on the TV due to a sudden tickle fight on the sofa.

***

A month and a half later, Georgie is back in Ben's flat again, this time with a suit of her own, and the two of them are getting ready for the premiere. At the moment Georgie is in his bathroom, doing something complicated with her hair, and Ben is—well, he's not _snooping_. He's just kind of procrastinating, pottering around his room, and she's left her suitcase open on his bed and something catches his eye. That's all. It's mostly covered by a shirt, but the part of it that's peeking out looks very—well, it's enough to make him flip the shirt over, just to make sure his eyes are playing tricks on him.

They're not, though. Georgie really does have a strap-on dildo in her suitcase.

She returns from the bathroom at that moment, and he's a bit too stunned to cover it back up again, so she walks into his room to see him standing there staring at it.

She colours slightly, but strides up and bundles the shirt over it before zipping the suitcase back up, and says simply, "Nosy."

"You do," Ben says, staring at her in amazement, "you actually do have sex with girls."

"I can't believe you didn't believe me," she pouts at him. "I'm a total Casanova."

Ben tries to get a hold of himself. All right, she's acting like it's no big deal. Two can play at _that_ game.

"Maybe I can give you some tips," he says, waggling his eyebrows at her.

She cracks up. "Yeah right," she scoffs, "maybe _I_ can give _you_ some tips, more like. Anyway, can you help me with this? It's such a pain doing it myself."

It's only at this point that Ben realises all Georgie's wearing is her underwear, and, rather alarmingly, she's actually unfastening the little sports bra she's wearing as she talks.

"What?" he says, instinctively averting his eyes, but then Georgie says "This," again without further explanation, so he has to look at her. She's holding some bandages and a little clasp, and is gesturing to her breasts like it's totally normal for her to be standing there topless in his bedroom. He gapes at her like a fish. "Strapping these suckers down?" Georgie elaborates, looking at him like _he's_ the one being weird.

"Ummm," says Ben, his mouth going dry. "Right," he manages eventually. What happened to him being shut out of his own bedroom while she changed clothes? "Yeah, sure. Uh huh. I can totally do that. I mean, probably." He laughs and it sounds a little crazy. "Let's see, shall we?"

He wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans and reaches out for the bandages and clasp. He momentarily considers attempting to do this with his eyes closed, but reluctantly acknowledges that it would probably result in injury. Georgie lifts her arms up in the air and Ben tentatively starts to wrap the bandages around her, trying not to touch her bare skin any more than is absolutely necessary. She has a cute little mole above her left nipple, which he most definitely doesn't notice. He fumbles and drops the clasp, and Georgie laughs at him.

"Ben, you've seen boobs before, right?" she asks. "Because you're kiiind of acting like you haven't. I'm just saying."

Ben grits his teeth and tries to persevere. He wants to say something jokey about how he's seen many a boob in his day so she shouldn't think hers are anything special, but he can't seem to say anything except "Um," because the thing is, they kind of _are_ , and the thought is distressing.

"Tighter, you goon," Georgie huffs, "you're making them look all lumpy."

"I don't want to _hurt_ you," Ben says, speaking through the clasp he's now holding between his teeth, but he obliges anyway, yanking the bandages taut and wrapping them around Georgie's chest, trying to get this over with.

"Okay, not _that_ tight," Georgie says now, her voice sounding strained. "It might be nice to be able to breathe tonight."

Ben makes a face at her and loosens them, just a little. "Is this even safe? For like...your ribs and stuff?" he asks, attempting to make conversation like this is a normal activity for the two of them to be engaged in.

"I might get a proper binder at some point, I just haven't gotten around to it yet," Georgie replies casually, as if Ben knows what a 'proper binder' actually is. He winds the bandages around a few times more—spiralling around Georgie's body as she stands there with her arms thrust up in the air.

"How's that?" he asks finally, coming to a stop, holding the binding flat under her arm.

"Perfect," she grins at him goofily, and he plucks the clasp from his mouth and begins to fasten it. 

When he's done, she pulls on her crisp white shirt and then just stands there, looking at her reflection in his mirror. She's gone all out and is even wearing boxers, grey ones that she told him are meant for fourteen year old boys.

"You okay?" he asks her, pulling off his jeans. He's wearing grey boxers too, he remembers, and is momentarily amused by how similar their outfits are for tonight.

"Yeah," she says, smiling. "Yeah. Thanks."

She comes over to him, then, while he's fiddling with the zipper on his trousers, and places a sure hand over his fidgeting fingers. Inappropriately close to his crotch.

"Here," she murmurs, prising his hands from the zip and then, in one smooth motion, doing it up for him.

She kisses him, then, suddenly like the last time, when he's not expecting it. Her lips are soft and warm and confident and he feels like he could get used to it. Shouldn't, but could. Easily.

When she pulls away, he lets out a long, low whistle, bringing his fingers to his mouth. "Oh," he says, "oh, you should stop doing that."

"Why?" she asks, putting her hat on and looking in the mirror as she straightens it. "I like girls, right? It's not like it _counts_."

At this moment in time, that seems fairly reasonable.

But later in the night, when it seems that his knowledge of Georgie's sexual preferences might come in handy, he thinks of her lips on his and can't help but be a little uncertain when he describes her as a lesbian.

***

Georgie acts cool all throughout breakfast after the premiere, but Ben can tell she's bursting with excitement underneath it all. And when she hangs back—kissing Anna on the cheek and telling her she'll only be a minute—it's just the two of them, so Ben demands the gossip.

"You actually did it?"

"Totally did it."

A pause.

"I can't think of a non-pervy way to ask what it was like," Ben says defeatedly.

"Like everything you're imagining, you perv," Georgie grins at him, flicking him affectionately on the nose, "and much more."

***

"So are you like," Ben ventures uncertainly, "like is it—you and Anna, you know, are you—is it—"

"Spit it out," Georgie laughs. It's been about a month, and she's round at his flat again, taking a pizza out of his freezer.

"Official? Exclusive?" Ben throws out the words apprehensively. Georgie just shrugs, and he can tell she's not giving him her full attention, instead reading the cooking instructions on the back of the pizza box.

"Like..." Ben presses, "has it happened again?" 

He's still trying not to sound like a perv; he honestly just wants to know, because they're his friends and it feels like something he should be aware of. They sort of disappeared off the map after the premiere—he'd been busy too, to be fair, but it seemed particular suspect with them considering what happened that night. Not to mention the fact that Georgie only replied to about half the texts he sent during that period when she'd normally be bombarding him with messages.

Georgie just giggles and taps the side of her nose. "Ah, a lady never tells."

"Well, you're not much of a lady," Ben teases.

"Fair point." Georgie shoves the pizza into the oven and boots the door closed, hopping up to sit on his kitchen counter. "Okay, well, I'm not gonna give you all the juicy details because that's not fair to her, but yeah. It's happened a few more times."

"A few?"

"Do you want an exact number? Because I don't know if we're counting each night as one time or like, all the times in each night..."

Ben can't tell if she's winding him up. " _All_ the times?" he asks before he can stop himself.

Georgie says nothing, leaning back on the counter with her arms stretched out behind her. She might look smug and he might be into it. This has been a weird past few months.

"But to answer what I think you were trying to ask in the first place: no, we're not an item or anything," Georgie says finally. "I like her a lot. Like, a _lot_ a lot." She shrugs. "But I like other people too."

"What, like Rachael's friend, the mysterious older woman you somehow managed to lure into your bed?"

"You say 'somehow' like I have no seduction skills, and you know that's not true," Georgie says, swinging her long legs, and Ben has to admit she has a point. "And yeah, her. Among others." She sighs, rolling her eyes, when she sees that he's continuing to stare at her in a frustrated sort of way. "I just don't like feeling tied down, okay?"

"Georgie, you are seventeen years old. I don't think there's a risk of you being _tied down_ anytime soon."

"Exactly. What's with your sudden interest in my sex life, anyway? Don't go all creepy old man on me."

"Okay, that's not fair," Ben says, crossing his arms defensively. "I had no interest whatsoever in your sex life—I didn't even know you _had_ a sex life until you started—" he flounders, and she looks at him expectantly, "—I don't know. Shoving it in my face all of a sudden. I mean, are we just not gonna talk about the fact that—" he takes a deep breath, and then just decides, _out with it_ , "—the fact that you kissed me? Twice?"

There's a pause, then. Annoyingly.

And then Georgie says in a sly little voice, "I dunno. Do you _want_ to talk about it?"

"Well—I—" Ben stammers. God, she makes him feel totally lost. But in a way that's—exciting, somehow. He's completely at sea and he has no idea what's going on and yet he _likes_ it. "I just thought it was the kind of thing that ought to be talked about," he says weakly in the end.

"You know what else ought to be talked about?" she counters, always one step ahead of him. "The fact that you never gave me that dress back."

Ben has absolutely nothing to say to that, and just sort of gapes at her a bit. His fish impression is coming on really well.

"I mean I left it behind by mistake and then totally forgot about it because I was busy trying to get the whole suit thing sorted, and then the designer guy called me all confused because I hadn't worn it to the premiere but I hadn't sent it back either, so he wanted to know what that was all about, and that was when I realised it must still be with you." She pauses after this rush of words, tilting her head to one side. "And _then_ I wondered why _you_ hadn't mentioned it. You never offered to give it me back or anything. And that seemed kind of weird."

"Well, I—I forgot about it too." Ben is lying, and it is the most obvious thing in the world. 

He didn't forget about the dress. He'd left it in a heap on his floor, and then it got covered up by his suit later on when she took that off, and he didn't find it until after she'd left. He'd left it there for a few days, waiting for her to remember and text him, but she didn't. He left it there for a few more days, untouched, and after a week and a half it felt like it was beginning to lurk, in an oddly sinister sort of way. One evening he got home from an audition he'd totally massacred, and after a few too many drinks, he put it on again under the pretext of giving himself a laugh. He thought maybe he'd take a photo on his phone and send it to Georgie as an amusing reminder to her that she'd left it behind.

That's not really how the night ended up going, in the end.

Georgie is laughing, probably at how abysmal his lying skills are under pressure. "It's okay if you tried it on again," she says, suddenly lifting the entire mood of the conversation seemingly with no effort at all. "It looked weirdly good on you actually. Like, it was funny because it was so unexpected, but once I got used to it, it was like it suited you or something. So it's not like I'm gonna judge if you wear it around the house sometimes or whatever—"

"It's not quite like that," Ben interrupts. Georgie looks at him questioningly and he realises then that actually, it's probably better for both of them if Georgie just imagines him innocently prancing around his flat wearing the dress while he does his household chores, instead of knowing what _actually_ happens, inevitably, every time he puts it on. His face feels hot just thinking about it. "Okay, no, it is," he says, and then, before he can stop himself, "Oh my god, this is so embarrassing."

"Why?" says Georgie, plucking a carrot stick from the chopping board beside her on the counter and munching on it thoughtfully. "If wearing dresses is embarrassing then there are a whole lot of women who should be going around feeling embarrassed like, all the time."

Ben isn't quite sure how to argue with this logic so he just stands there helplessly, slumped against the fridge and going steadily pink in the cheeks. Georgie sort of studies him for a while, which doesn't exactly help.

"You know what?" she says eventually, in a businesslike tone, leaping back off the counter and clapping her hands together. "You should go put it on right now."

"W-why?" Ben would feel taken aback, but he's not sure how much further aback he can be taken at this point in the conversation.

"Because I wanna see you in it again," Georgie says matter-of-factly, and Ben wonders what the hell _that's_ supposed to mean. She sort of shoos him with her hands. "Go on. I'll set the table."

"Georgie," says Ben, trying to work out if she's actually serious or not. She's still looking at him like she's waiting for him to leave, though, instead of cracking up, so she probably means it. And he's never been very good at saying no to her.

So, that's how he ends up sitting at his dining room table eating pizza with Georgie while wearing a dress. It's not like Georgie's laughing at him, or even silently judging him or anything, and yet he still can't shake a nagging feeling of shame. Georgie keeps looking at him in this odd sort of scrutinising way, like she's trying to figure out exactly what it is he likes about wearing the dress, and that's a problem, because what he likes about it is that—well—it turns him on. That's kind of all there is to it. He's tried to psychoanalyse himself and has come up empty. Whatever the reason, wearing the dress makes him _hard_.

Which adds another whole layer of awkwardness to their dinner. The whole situation is so strange and uncomfortable that it's not like Ben's fighting off a massive stiffy under the table or anything, but—over the past couple of months, the process of putting on the dress, getting excited, and wanking off has become a regular occurrence, so it's difficult not to feel that tingle of arousal even now. He must have conditioned his brain (or his cock) to have this sort of response, and he wishes he hadn't, because right now he's having to try so hard to distract himself away from it that he's having trouble carrying on a conversation like a normal human being. 

He's just kind of letting Georgie do the talking, which is fine, because she's currently involved in telling him some rambling story and he couldn't get a word in edgeways even if he tried. But then she stops abruptly mid-sentence and peers at him.

"Ben," she says, looking slightly amused, "your eyes are kinda glazing over."

"I was losing track of your story?" he attempts, but it doesn't come out very convincingly.

Georgie takes another bite of her pizza. Her teeth suddenly look particularly sharp. "It really does look good on you, you know," she says then, and even with her mouth full he can detect something teasing in her tone. "I don't know why, but it does. I think purple is your colour."

Ben doesn't know what to say. He says, "You have tomato sauce on your lip."

Georgie grins at him. "Maybe you should kiss it off for me," she says, but she's only kidding—or at least, he assumes she is, because she grabs a paper towel a second later and wipes it off herself.

***

A week later, a little package appears in Ben's mailbox unexpectedly, an innocent-looking brown Jiffy bag with his address written on the front in Georgie's neat little handwriting. When he gets back into his flat he opens it apprehensively, and wrapped in a bundle of white tissue paper inside is something he has to stare at for a very long time before he's able to comprehend it.

What it is is a pair of knickers.

Ben can't quite believe that's what they actually are, and just keeps staring at them, like maybe if he looks hard enough he'll suddenly realise that no, _obviously_ they're like—a pair of socks or a tea towel or something more normal and acceptable like that. But they stubbornly remain knickers. Knickers that look a little too large to belong to Georgie and still have the tag on them (thankfully, because on the scale of weirdness in Ben's head, Georgie buying him knickers is just slightly lower than her sending him a pair of her own).

Still, it's _really fucking weird._ They're kind of tasteful—it's not like she's sent him a bright pink thong or anything, like the one Will and Anna apparently gave Skandar as a prank on his 14th birthday. They're cornflower blue cotton with a scalloped lace hem and a faint white pattern all over, and they feel soft in his hands, delicate. He stares at them for at least another five minutes and then fishes his phone out of his pocket and sends the only text he can think to send.

_georgie what_

He's put the knickers down on the coffee table in front of him, and he stares at them some more like they're having a sort of stand-off. He doesn't want to touch them again and he's not sure why.

_"georgie what" what_

_you know perfectly well georgie what_ , Ben texts back immediately, fingers slippery on his phone, his hands sweating.

There's a bit of a longer pause this time and then he gets an innocent-sounding, _do you like them?_ and glares at his phone for a long moment, totally at a loss.

In the end he avoids answering the question because he's not even ready to go there in his own mind yet, let alone approach the topic with her. _Georgie you can't just send people underwear in the post,_ he sends her, finally. It's weak and he knows it.

 _who says?_ comes the instantaneous reply. And then, _did you try them on?_

 _Georgie_ , Ben sends helplessly.

_go try them on at least._

Ben stares at his phone for a while and then at the knickers again for another long while, and then surrenders and takes both into his bedroom. _This is not happening_ , he tells himself. _I am not doing this._ But he is, kicking off his shoes, unfastening his jeans with trembling fingers and pushing them down along with his boxers. He pulls the knickers on before giving himself a chance to back out, and they feel good against his skin instantly, so soft. They make the hair on his legs stand on end. He adjusts them around his hips, feeling himself blush a bit as he tries to get them to contain both his cock and his balls. He looks down at himself, at the trail of hair leading down from his belly button down beneath the lacy waistband of the knickers. He feels much like he does when he wears the dress—kind of stupid, basically, and yet _good_ at the same time, in some weird and inexplicable way. It's very confusing.

His cock stirs a little against the soft blue fabric. The elastic in unfamiliar places is making his skin feel extra-sensitive. Oh god, he so definitely has a thing for this. That was already pretty clear from the whole dress thing, he supposes, but somehow this just confirms it. He really, really gets off on this. And that's why it's so incredibly weird for _Georgie_ to be the one introducing him to it, accidentally at first perhaps but now very, very deliberately. He's getting hard. He tries not to.

His phone buzzes and he reacts like someone's just walked in on him, jumping at the noise and hunching in on himself, fumbling for his phone where it's lying on his bed. His heart is beating like a jackhammer.

 _so do you like them?_ Georgie's text reads.

Ben takes a very shaky breath. He's getting really quite hard and is rapidly losing sight of the many reasons why this is totally weird. His cock is making the knickers swell out and his throat feels dry and he wants to take off his t-shirt and put the dress on. He gathers his senses, at least the few that he can still manage to remain in control of, and texts Georgie back _Maybe._

Georgie texts him back a smiley emoji of some kind a minute or so later, but by that point he's sprawled across the bed with his hand down the front of the knickers, stroking himself furiously, and completely incapable of responding.

***

Next time, it's a larger parcel, a box, and his hands are actually trembling as he tries to carefully slice through the tape holding it shut. Inside, in a nest of tissue paper, he finds a total of six pairs of knickers. Because apparently, to Georgie, "maybe" means "oh god yes, please send me more."

Not that he's complaining, exactly. He takes out each pair carefully, inspecting them. Okay, fine, admiring them. They're a little less plain, this time, and all very—well, pretty. The tags have different shop names on them and it makes his stomach flip over to imagine Georgie picking these out on a shopping trip, going from store to store and thinking about what he might like. There's another soft cotton pair with stripes of white and baby-pink, white lace trim and a little pink bow. A silky, ruffly purple pair, with a flowery pattern. _Gingham_ , for God's sake. Satin and lace and flimsy sheer things. Underneath it all there's a little notecard with cartoon cats around the edges, and it says simply _now you have one for every day of the week!_

Ben doesn't text her this time, because he has no idea what to say. Having already failed to react appropriately the first time around, it doesn't seem like he can really act all offended now. But a couple of days later he gets a message from her. _did you get your present?_ is all it says, with an emoji that has its tongue sticking out.

He doesn't answer it for a while, trying to figure out how to respond. Part of him still feels like he should put a stop to this, really put his foot down and tell her that she's making him uncomfortable. Another part of him just wants to ignore her. But in the end he can't bring himself to do either, and he taps out a simple _Yes. Thank you._ He stares at the words for a while, his face hot, and then presses send, swearing under his breath.

She just says _no problemo_ , like it really is nothing, and it's screwing with his brain a bit (a lot) how casual she's being about this when it feels like such a big deal to him. He's pretty sure this isn't remotely normal, and he can't shake the feeling that he's doing something very wrong by going along with it, but at the same time he can't seem to do anything else. He _likes_ it. He can't really pretend otherwise, not when he tried on the knickers one pair after another almost as soon as he got them, in his bedoom with the curtains pulled tight and his heart hammering away in his chest and his cock growing steadily harder. 

The next morning he's getting dressed when he realises all his pants are in the wash except for a really old pair that's all frayed elastic and threadbare fabric, and he hesitates, holding them and eyeing the box from Georgie where it's peeking out from under his bed. He sighs, impulsively tossing the old boxers into the bin and yanking out a pretty pair of knickers instead, pulling them on hurriedly and trying not to think too hard about it. 

It's kind of a downward spiral from there.

***

It probably wasn't deliberate on Georgie's part (or was it?), but the fact that she sent him the knickers makes it very difficult for him to think of anything except her when he's wearing them. The two are inextricably linked in his mind. And it goes without saying how inappropriate _that_ is. He can't seem to get off anymore unless he puts them on first, which means that every masturbation session is spent wrestling madly with all kinds of thoughts he really doesn't want to be having.

Sometimes—and this is something he's only admitted to one girlfriend in his entire life—he maybe likes the way it feels to have a finger or two inside him, when he's really worked up. Something about doing that while he's got the knickers on always seems to drive him crazy, make him come even harder. One time he's gently working himself open when Georgie suddenly springs to mind, Georgie with her strap-on dildo, gently easing the tip of it into some nameless girl. It's a sudden flash of an image that's too quick to prevent and he's tipped over the edge instantly, soaking the knickers and immediately feeling horribly, sickeningly guilty. He doesn't touch himself again for days.

A couple of times, burning with embarrassment, he puts the dress on as well before he gets off. He doesn't like to admire himself in the mirror or anything—it makes him feel silly, ashamed—but just the way the dress feels against his skin is enough to get him going. It's so soft, the lacy hem tickling his thighs and making the hair stand on end, and for some reason he hasn't even attempted to analyse, the fact that it's a little too tight really adds to the excitement. It should just make it uncomfortable, but for some reason the way it squeezes at his waist and makes his breath come a little shorter—it just _does_ something to him. 

One day, he's been wearing the knickers around the house when some mates invite him out to the pub. He can't bear the thought of changing, so even though he knows it's risky, he just pulls his trousers up higher than usual and secures them tightly with a belt. He spends the entire evening jittery and paranoid, tugging at his shirt, and doesn't go to the loo even when he's had a few beers and is getting a little desperate. He's worn them out a couple of times before, but only to run quick errands—not for anything _social_ , not around people he _knows_. 

The whole thing is so stressful, and yet, there's some perverted part of him that _enjoys_ it. The risk of somebody finding out. What would they say? He can't even imagine. A few times during the evening, he toys with the idea of bringing it up—just making a joke of it, some outrageous story about this crazy bird who wants him to wear women's underwear. He wants to do it so he has a way of gauging their reaction—he's desperate for _someone_ to tell him this is okay—but he knows they would just laugh, and make fun of him, and he can't face that. 

Besides, he can't bring himself to talk about Georgie that way with the guys. It feels disrespectful.

When he gets home he feels exhausted, but quickly discovers that he's completely unable to sleep. He's slightly tipsy and beginning to obsess over the idea of confiding in someone, and before he even really knows what he's doing, he finds himself reaching for the phone and dialling Skandar's mobile number at nearly one in the morning.

"'lo?" comes a sleepy voice when the phone stops ringing.

"Hey, it's me," says Ben, "sorry, I know it's late."

"It's okay," says Skandar. "What's up? Is something wrong?"

"No." Ben shifts a little, uncomfortable, suddenly wondering what the hell he's doing. If he couldn't talk about this with the guys at the pub, what makes him think he's going to be able to broach the subject with _Skandar_? Skandar mocks him more than anyone, and the fact that he _knows_ Georgie makes this all the more weird. "Um. Just—I can't sleep, wondered if you'd be up for a chat," he says lamely. "We haven't talked in a while."

"Aww, d'you miss me?" Skandar teases, but Ben can tell he's secretly pleased.

"Yeah, I just couldn't go another day without hearing your lovely voice," says Ben sarcastically. "How are things?"

Skandar laughs. "All right," he says, "not much going on really, but that's a blessing to be honest...it's good to be back home. Thank god for summer."

"Uh huh."

There's a slightly awkward pause, and then Skandar says, suspiciously, "Are you sure there's nothing wrong?"

"Um," says Ben, flustered. "No—well, I was just—I wondered if I could get your opinion on something."

"Okay?"

"Um," says Ben again, wondering how to phrase it. Before he's really had a chance, the words kind of just tumble out. "What—what would you do if—if a girl wanted you to do something a bit—well, you know...kinky?"

"Oh," says Skandar, barking out a little surprised laugh at the direction in which this conversation is heading. "I didn't realise you were seeing anyone."

"No, no, I'm not," says Ben hastily, sounding a little too defensive even to his own ears. "It's just—a friend."

"A friend who's getting you to do kinky things?" asks Skandar, amused.

"No!" says Ben immediately, and then reconsiders. "Well, yeah. I guess so. Is that weird? It's weird, isn't it? Oh, god."

"Well, are you attracted to her?" Skandar asks, placidly, and Ben silently thanks him a thousand times over for not just laughing at him endlessly.

"I—am I—it's—" Ben stammers, and then finally settles on, "Let's not go there." He realises that he's laughing in a helpless sort of way, and tries to stop.

"Okay..." says Skandar slowly, taking this in his stride, "how about: are you into the kinky thing she wants you to do?"

Ben hesitates, feeling a weird prickly sensation creeping across his face. "Um," he says.

"So that's a yes," Skandar chuckles, and Ben feels hot and embarrassed despite the fact that Skandar doesn't even know what it _is_. "It's probably fine then," Skandar goes on casually, "as long as it's not like, illegal or anything. Wow, what's with all these sexual revelations coming out at the moment? First Anna and Georgie, now you and...whatever this is all about."

 _Also Georgie,_ thinks Ben, sighing. It's all just...Georgie.

"So, you gonna tell me what it is?" Skandar asks, because of course the idea of them finishing this conversation _without_ that question being asked is too good to be true.

"No," says Ben simply.

"Okay, but I'm gonna get it out of you eventually," Skandar assures him. He yawns noisily. "I'd badger you some more but I'm really tired. Another time."

"Oh, great. I look forward to it," Ben says, his voice heavy with sarcasm. Skandar laughs and then there's another pause. "Listen—thanks, though," Ben adds, sincere this time.

"Any time, weirdo," Skandar chuckles, "'night."

***

Skandar's words keep coming back to him— _as long as it's not like, illegal or anything_ —and nagging at him inexplicably. It's _not_ illegal. It's not like there are laws against whatever the hell is going on with him and Georgie in the first place, but even if they were actually sleeping together it would be fine in the eyes of the law. Perhaps not in _some_ countries, but even that won't be the case for much longer—Georgie's 18th birthday is just a couple of weeks away now.

Even so, it feels wrong. He's so much older than her, and he's known her since before she was even a teenager and basically watched her grow up. It just leaves him feeling skeevy.

But she's the one initiating all of this, so she must want it—want _something_ —unless she's just winding him up in the weirdest way ever. But, though that paranoid thought keeps occurring to him, he knows that she wouldn't go this far just for the sake of a prank. Especially considering she doesn't seem to find it all that funny, and she's never had the greatest poker face—if this were a prank, she would be _laughing_ about the whole thing more. She would've taken photos of him in the dress and sent them to the others. He's sure of it.

But she hasn't. Which means she must know it's something serious, something private. And it must be that way to her as well.

***

A few days later, he gets another text from Georgie and his heart leaps for a second before he realises it's been delivered to the Narnia cast group chat (named, by Georgie, 'PEVENSIES!!! + Ben + other Will'). It reads:

_YOU ARE OFFICIALLY INVITED TO GEORGIE'S 18TH BIRTHDAY SLEEPOVER/HOUSEWARMING PARTY EXTRAVAGANZA. DATE: NEXT SATURDAY. TIME: 7PM. VENUE: MY NEW FLAT!! NARNIA CREW ONLY. BE THERE OR BE SHUNNED FROM MY LIFE FOREVER. P.S. PLEASE BRING BOOZE!!!_

The words are followed by several emojis, mostly of drinks. There is also a cake and various celebratory symbols, and, for no apparent reason, a few cats scattered about. Ben finds himself grinning as he looks down at his phone. He'd almost forgotten, amongst all the recent weirdness, about Georgie's move to London—she's going to be starting at the University of the Arts in the summer, and has found herself a small flat of her own in the area. Barely half an hour away from his own flat, as it happens. When she'd told him about it he'd asked if that was intentional, but she'd just laughed and rolled her eyes, saying "Yeah, nothing to do with my _education_ or anything. I just wanted to be close to _you_. Geez, Ben, self-important much?"

He hadn't meant it like that, of course—it'd seemed a reasonable question, considering how much time they'd been spending together over the past year or so, the sheer number of weekends Georgie was perfectly happy to spend travelling several hours on the train to come visit him. Not to mention how she's steadily been losing interest in her studies over time, as well. (That's something no one seemed able to explain before, though Ben is now inclined to put it down to her spending more time pursuing pretty girls than writing essays.)

He's been putting off buying her a birthday present, but now that he knows he's going to be seeing her soon he pushes himself to think about it some more. He can think of plenty of easy options, but somehow none of those things feels like _enough_. Something has changed between them recently, and it makes him feel like he needs to make some sort of bigger gesture. Maybe it's just that she bought him the knickers and that was such a significant gift that he feels an obligation to return the favour, but he can't think _how_.

He agonises over it for a long time, determined to come up with something absolutely perfect, but it seems like everything he considers has a possiblity of being taken the wrong way. He's never had trouble like this with buying her presents before—in fact, he's bought her _loads_ of things over the years, usually without even needing a special occasion for the excuse. He always used to just see things that made him think of her and buy them without a second thought, and his bank account has often suffered for it.

The party is a few days after her actual birthday. He texts her on the day itself, as soon as he wakes up, just a simple _happy birthday george_ , but she must be busy celebrating with her family and maybe some school friends because he doesn't get a response until the evening (not that he's waiting for one). It just says _thanks!_ and it's probably Ben's imagination but it feels like things between them are a little strained. He texts her again to say he can come to the party and she replies with an enthusiastic _yay!!!!_ but that still doesn't do much to quell his anxiety.

Before he knows it, it's the day of the party and he's still empty-handed. He's busy during the day but he decides to leave for the party early and do some last-minute scouring of shops before he heads to her flat, still holding out hope that he might stumble across just the right thing. In the end though, he doesn't have enough time, too busy fretting over what to _wear_ , of all things. It's completely ridiculous, but—much like on the night he went out to the pub—he's been wearing knickers all day and he doesn't want to change. He's beginning to get used to them, so much so that on the odd occasions that he _does_ try to wear his usual boxers again, they feel strange and baggy and unfamiliar. It concerns him that apparently the knickers aren't purely a sexual thing for him anymore—that they seem to bring him comfort now instead of just turning him on all the time—but for the most part he tries not to think about that, unsure of what it might mean.

He's pretty sure that wearing knickers to the party is just tempting fate. Wearing them to the pub that night was stressful enough, and this lot are so _physical_ with each other that he can't be sure he's not going to be tackled to the floor at some point, tickled or wrestled with and accidentally exposed. He can't even rule out a completely undeserved wedgie, and just the thought of them all discovering what he's got on under his jeans makes him flush with humiliation. Besides, what would _Georgie_ think if she knew that he'd become so dependent on them that he would even wear them to her birthday party?

But then—isn't it possible that she actually _expects_ him to?

He spends entirely too long pacing around his bedroom trying to make up his mind, and then he catches a glimpse of the clock and realises that if he wants to buy her a present _and_ get to the party on time, he needs to leave right this instant.

And so he ends up just rushing to the nearest Topshop and buying Georgie a gift card, and even though it's fairly pricey, it still feels totally pathetic. Especially for such a landmark birthday. But it's too late to come up with anything better, and so he just sighs and tucks it into her birthday card (that, at least, had been easy—anything with baby animals on it is always appreciated) and then heads off to try and find her new flat.

Despite all his earlier rushing around, he finds himself dawdling a bit on the way, wondering if any of the others have arrived already or not. He's not exactly jumping for joy at being the first one there. It's not that he really thinks anything funny will happen, but just the idea of being on his own with her at the moment is enough to make him nervous. He feels guilty about the way he's been thinking about her, whether she's encouraged it or not.

In the end, he finds her address easily, and is only about ten minutes late.

"Hellooo!" Georgie greets him cheerily when she opens the door. She beams at him and flings her arms around his neck, giving him such an enthusiastic hug that Ben almost loses his balance.

"Hello yourself," he says, laughing as she lets him go and steps aside to let him through the door. Just seeing her is strangely reassuring—it reminds him that she's still the same old Georgie and they're still the same old them, even if things have taken a turn for the seriously weird lately. It seems like there's some spark between them now, though, that wasn't there before—or perhaps it's been there a while and Ben is only just noticing it. (Or, perhaps it's not really there at all, and it's just Ben's imagination. It's difficult to tell.)

"Welcome to the flat," Georgie announces. Her eyes are bright and she's a little bit pink in the cheeks; Ben wonders if she's had something to drink already. She's happy and playful, wearing her usual skinny jeans and a tight vest top. She has her glasses on and her feet are bare, her hair pulled back into a messy bun. Ben follows her down the narrow hallway, past a couple of rooms that she doesn't bother giving him a tour of. "Skandar and Anna are here already, we're still waiting on the Wills," she tells him, guiding him towards the combined living and dining room.

It looks nice and fairly spacious, but it's difficult to tell because most of the floor is taken up by a truly impressive amount of duvets, blankets, and pillows. It's like the majority of the carpet has been replaced with bedding, in various clashing colours and patterns. The sofa has been dismantled for parts, and Ben immediately almost trips over one of its cushions lying haphazardly on the floor. He's greeted by the sound of laughter and sees that Skandar and Anna are lounging in the sea of bedding, Skandar leaning against the cushion-less sofa and Anna on a pile of quilts, propping herself up on her elbows to look at Ben.

"Hey," the two of them say in unison, and Ben finds himself breathing a sigh of relief just at the sight of them. If there _is_ some new kind of electricity between him and Georgie, it seems that the presence of other people immediately discharges it, which is good to know.

"Hi," he says, shrugging off his backpack and putting it on the floor next to what he assumes are their bags.

Georgie leaps onto the bed with them, bouncing up and down and jiggling the two of them around, ignoring their noises of protest. "Did you bring any alcohol?" she asks Ben, looking hopeful.

Ben holds up the bag in his hand. "Of course, your instructions were very clear," he says. "I've got beer."

"I brought rum," says Skandar, "and Anna bought some really fancy champagne."

"It's not _that_ fancy," mutters Anna bashfully, giving Skandar a little kick with a socked foot, but Georgie is speaking over her.

"And I got this weird vodka from Laura," she's saying, "it's caramel popcorn flavoured."

"Well, that sounds disgusting," Ben says, grinning. In spite of everything, her giddiness is slightly contagious.

"I don't even think that's a thing," says Anna doubtfully. "How do you make _vodka_ taste like popcorn?"

"I dunno. Wanna find out?" asks Georgie, leaping back off the bed and trotting around the corner into the adjoining kitchen without waiting for an answer.

The others all exchange amused looks.

"She's slightly hyper," Anna informs Ben in a stage-whisper. Her tone is oddly apologetic, and it strikes Ben that this is the first time he's seen the two of them since the premiere. _Since they started sleeping together_ , he forces himself to think.

"Eh, she's allowed," he says, feeling defensive of Georgie all of a sudden and surprising himself with it. "It is her birthday party, after all."

He feels like he should probably go put the beer in the kitchen, but he's hesitant to be in there with Georgie on his own. It's stupid, of course, because Skandar and Anna are right here, but still. Instead, he just puts the bag down on the coffee table and sits down in an armchair, which he realises is only intact because its cushion can't be detached. He shifts uncomfortably. Skandar and Anna look completely at home in the fluffy piles of bedding on the floor and he wonders if, under different circumstances, he would have joined them there. He thinks he probably would have done, probably would have flung himself face first into all the blankets like an idiot. But something about tonight is making him feel unusually uncomfortable, making him second-guess all his actions. He feels sort of old, which is horrible.

Georgie returns a moment later with two small glasses of alarmingly lurid yellow liquid, clinking with ice cubes. She hands one to Anna, who sits up properly and wrinkles her nose.

"Cheers, Georgie," she says, half-sarcastic, but she takes a sip just as Georgie does.

"What's the verdict?" asks Skandar.

Anna swallows a couple of times, looking confused. "It's kind of..." she begins, but doesn't get a chance to finish her sentence because then the intercom is ringing and Georgie is racing out of the room excitedly. 

When she comes back in, she's arm-in-arm with a slightly bewildered-looking Will P., who waves at them all and exclaims at the state of the floor. Ben wonders if it's weird that he himself didn't comment on it. He's brought some white wine, but Georgie manages to rope him into trying some of the vodka instead, and goes to put the wine and beer in the fridge. She comes back with Anna's champagne, which does in fact look very fancy, and offers Ben and Skandar a glass. By the time the other Will finally arrives, they're all a little buzzed, lounging around with the TV turned to a music channel. Ben is gradually starting to feel more at home, and allows himself to slide off the armchair and sink down into a mound of bedding instead. 

Will ends up with a glass each of champagne and flavoured vodka, unable to choose. 

"You know," he comments, "if this is supposed to be a Narnia crew party, shouldn't Jill be here?" 

Georgie rolls her eyes. "For the last time, Will, that is _not her name,_ " she says. "And besides, I don't think she likes me anymore." 

"Yeah, she's a little jealous of a certain somebody," Skandar says, pointing at Anna with no subtlety whatsoever. 

Before long the room is filled with the sound of everybody's excitable chatter as they catch up, but Georgie won't let that go on for long, too impatient, wanting to open her presents. Ben's heart sinks as he remembers the stupid gift card, but it's too late to do anything about it now, and he makes sure it's the first thing she opens so that they can get it over with and she can move on to the awesome presents he's sure the others have gotten her. He can see the disappointment flicker across her face for just a second when she realises that's all there is, and it kills him, even though she's quick to say thank you and move past it.

Luckily the next present is from Skandar and it turns out to be a large book emblazoned with the title _The Guide to Lesbian Sex_ , so that distracts everybody quite effectively.

"Oh my _god_ , _Skandar_!" exclaims Georgie, immediately thumping him with the weighty volume.

Skandar just grins mischievously. "What, I thought it might come in handy."

"Skandar," says Anna in flat disbelief. "You are actually the worst."

Everyone is laughing, Georgie included as she pages through the book, shaking her head. "I can't believe—the _nerve_ —" she sputters out in between giggles.

"Woah, what was _that_ position?" Will P. interrupts, eyes widening as he peers over her shoulder.

"What, that one?" Georgie asks, stopping the book on a particular page, and Ben is curious but at the same time somewhat relieved that he can't see. He really doesn't need any more in the way of mental images when it comes to Georgie and sex. Georgie laughs again. "Aw, c'mon. That's basic stuff, isn't it? Skandar, honestly. This is for amateurs."

Will is elbowing Skandar in the ribs, looking faintly scandalised. "You promised you weren't going to get her that!"

"I know," says Skandar. "I lied. I couldn't resist. C'mon, can't we just acknowledge the elephant in the room? I think we all want to know how things are going with our new lesbian couple."

Georgie rolls her eyes, looking like she's struggling to stop herself thumping him with the book again. "We're not a couple, Skandar, we're just—"

"Seeing each other," Anna cuts in.

"Oh, but you're already finishing each other's sentences?" Skandar teases.

"Skandar, please shut up," says Georgie affectionately, "and have another drink."

"I'm just wondering how things are going!"

"Yes, we know," Anna sighs. "He wouldn't shut up about it on the way here," she tells the others, "I had to resort to physical violence."

Georgie nods knowledgably. "Sometimes it's the only thing that works," she says with a sigh.

"All right, all right, sorry for being interested in my friends' love lives," Skandar grumbles.

Now that the subject has been brought up, Ben feels even more aware of the way Anna and Georgie interact, finding himself paying extra attention to the two of them even when he tries not to. As the evening goes on, though, Ben begins to relax more and more. It's probably partly the alcohol, but it's also just the effect of the others' company, the cosiness of it all. They all snuggle up together on the floor, limbs everywhere, watching silly movies and eating Chinese food, and it's hard _not_ to relax in that kind of environment. It's so comfortable with all of them that after a while, Ben almost forgets there's anything weird going on under the surface, even when Georgie rests her head on his shoulder at one point and he can smell her sweet breath and feel her hair tickling his skin.

For the most part Anna and Georgie are their same old selves, but he notices Georgie seems more tender with Anna somehow. She seems to pay her more attention than anybody else, fetching her drinks and playing with her hair. Halfway through _Charlie's Angels_ , something makes him turn his head to look at them where they're cuddled up together in the armchair, and he's a little stunned to see that they're kissing. It's only brief—it's not like they're having a full-on make-out session or anything—but it's still strange to see, and it makes something twist in his stomach. The others don't even seem to notice. Somehow it would be easier if they did, if they hooted and hollered and made a big fuss. Instead, it makes Ben feel like he's seeing something he shouldn't, and he looks away quickly and takes a large gulp of his drink.

***

Later in the evening—several drinks later—he ends up on the balcony with Anna, enjoying some fresh air. The summer night is comfortably warm around them, and Anna's leaning on the railings, sighing happily.

"I just wanted to show you the view," she says. "Isn't it lovely?"

"Oh, you've been here before," says Ben stupidly. He'd just assumed this was the first visit for all of them.

Anna laughs softly. "Yeah," she says. "Just once."

"So," says Ben tentatively, "not to sound like Skandar, but..."

"Oh, here we go," Anna interrupts, laughing louder this time as she turns to roll her eyes at him.

Ben gives her an apologetic smile. They used to talk about this stuff a lot, he remembers suddenly—late-night talks on the phone about Anna's love life back when she was at Oxford (for some reason she'd only ever call him to talk about dumb boys she'd been seeing, never to vent about her work). And then there was that one wild night out after a bad break-up, that ended with Anna crying on Ben's shoulder and sleeping on his sofa.

It's different now, of course. Now that it's Georgie. But it shouldn't be, he thinks. She should still be able to confide in him. And maybe he's being a little bit selfish, maybe he's trying to satisfy his own curiosity, but—it's not like it's _just_ that.

"No, I..." he says, frowning now. "I just wanted to ask if, you know, things are good?"

Anna smiles, for a long moment. She looks sort of radiant, despite being closer to flat-out drunk than tipsy by now, despite her slightly smudged eyeliner and the extremely messy French plait she's sporting (Georgie's handiwork). "Yeah," she says, then. "Yeah. Things are really good."

"I just wondered," says Ben hesitantly. "I mean...I know you're not exclusive. I didn't know if you were okay with Georgie, you know...seeing other people."

Anna looks surprised. "Oh, yeah," she says. "That was my idea."

"It was?" asks Ben, equally surprised.

"Yeah, I mean, it's all kind of new to me, I'm not really ready to put a name on it," she explains. "Plus, I'm leaving in a couple of months—" of course, she's off to Toronto to film a TV pilot there, that had slipped Ben's mind, "—so it doesn't really make sense to get too serious at this point."

"Uh huh."

"And I mean, it's really worth it," Anna goes on, opening up now. "She makes me so happy. In...a lot of ways." She laughs then, sudden and bashful, like she's thinking of one way in particular.

Ben quirks an eyebrow at her. "Oh, really?" he teases. "Let me guess, one of those ways involves a certain rather _phallic_ belonging of hers that I might've accidentally stumbled across..."

For a second he's scared he's said too much, but then Anna cracks up laughing, going pink. "You know about that?!"

"Yeah," admits Ben. "Sorry, I know it's none of my business." The words keep coming, even though he knows he should probably shut up. This has been playing on his mind for too long now. "I just can't wrap my head around it, you know, I mean, it's Georgie. It's _Georgie!_ " He shakes his head. "Do you know what I mean?"

Anna's laughing again. "I _definitely_ know what you mean!" she exclaims. "That's what I thought! I thought, there's no way she knows what she's doing with that thing, but—" she blushes even deeper, "—apparently she does. She definitely does not need that dumb book Skandar gave her."

Ben goes suddenly tense, clenching a fist. He was practically begging for this kind of information but now that he's getting it, he can't cope. Images flood his mind and he feels like he needs to sit down. "...Really?" he asks, before he can stop himself.

"Okay, I'm not—I'm not going to go into detail or anything," says Anna, giggling. It occurs to Ben that maybe she's been struggling to keep certain things quiet herself, that maybe she's glad to have been given an opportunity to dish the dirt. "But...I mean...she's surprisingly, um, skilled. I know it seems like the weirdest thing, but it's true." She seems to interpret Ben's expression as somewhat doubtful, instead of just bewildered, because then she insists, "I'm serious! She gives me the best orgasms I've ever had with that thing."

It's at that point that Ben starts choking on his drink.

"Sorry, that was too much information. I think I had too much of the crazy vodka," says Anna hurriedly, going very pink indeed as Ben splutters helplessly beside her. She whacks him on the back. "Let's pretend this conversation never happened."

 _Impossible!_ shouts Ben's brain, but he nods enthusiastically at her, still gasping for air. "Yeah, um. Let's," he says hoarsely, giving one last cough as she turns to open the door.

When they come back inside, Skandar is lying on the piles of bedding with his limbs spread like a starfish, Will lounging beside him, Will P. curled up in the armchair, and Georgie is nowhere in sight.

"Bizzle!" says Skandar suddenly, loud enough to make Ben jump.

"Yes?" says Ben, preoccupied, still trying to scrub his mind clear of the things he just heard and failing miserably.

"I just wanted to make sure you know that I haven't forgotten about your little phone call." Skandar is slurring slightly and making strange hand movements. "I still wanna know what the _thing_ is."

"Ooooh," says Will, leaning over and drunkenly inserting himself into the conversation, to Ben's dismay. "What thing?"

Skandar grins and it looks wicked, and Ben thinks _oh no_ , but there's no time to do anything about it. "Ben here knows a girl who wants to do something kinky with him."

Will gasps exaggeratedly. "Ooooh," he says again, laughing.

"Oh god, not more sex talk," says Anna. Her cheeks are still flushed, a combination of alcohol and fresh air and embarrassment. "Skandar, you have such a one-track mind. Where's Georgie?"

"In the bathroom," says Will P., and then, to Skandar, "Kinky how?"

"I don't know," sighs Skandar, "he wouldn't say. Which means it must be rather depraved."

Anna flops down onto a mountain of cushions, resigning herself to this conversation. "All right," she says, "so what is it?"

"It's really nothing," lies Ben, wishing they would shut up. He's starting to feel really agitated, despite all the alcohol, hoping he can manage to put a stop to this before Georgie returns.

"Okay, that's not fair," Anna laughs. "After what I just said out there, I think you owe me one."

"And the plot thickens!" cries Will, gleefully. "What did you say out there then, missy?"

As Anna reaches over to thump him, Ben says loudly, "Really, it's nothing. I was just winding Skandar up."

"You were _not_ ," Skandar retorts, affronted. "I know because your voice got all high-pitched like it does when you're anxious about something. You were like," he raises his voice a couple of octaves in what Ben hopes is a massive exaggeration, " _oh Skandar, please depart some of your sexual wisdom—_ "

"That is not what happened," Ben interrupts, flatly, but he's not sure anyone can hear him over their laughter.

"Who's the girl?" asks Will P. curiously then, and Ben feels slightly betrayed that even _he's_ joining in this interrogation.

"That's not the important thing, the important thing is what the _thing_ is," says Skandar.

"What what thing is?" comes another voice, and Ben is distressed to see that Georgie has returned. "Are we gossiping?" she asks, grinning brightly.

"Ben wants to do something kinky," Will tells her, and everyone cracks up, drowning out the dying-animal sound that Ben makes in response to this.

To Georgie's credit, she only looks surprised for about a nanosecond, and then she's saying "Oh _really_ ," and grinning. She crosses the room and perches on the arm of Will P.'s armchair, her eyebrows raised.

"No," insists Ben, trying not to look her in the eye. "No, no. There's nothing. No things at all."

"There is!" Skandar cries, heaving himself upright. "And I will find out what it is. You can't just ring me up in the middle of the night, freaking out and saying some girl wants you to do something kinky, and expect me not to follow up."

Ben is beginning to panic. "Okay!" he blurts out. "Okay, it's just—it's so silly, really, she just—" he says the first relatively innocuous thing that springs to mind, "she wants me to dress up like a policeman. That's all. She just has this thing for men in uniform! It's not a big deal."

Ben knows Skandar isn't going to buy this (he's always had an uncanny knack for being able to tell when Ben is lying, it's incredibly annoying) but all he can do is pray that he'll let it slide. The others instantly crack up laughing. Will P. is pretending to swoon and calling him 'Officer Barnes', Georgie is giving him a smile that's dangerously close to a smirk, and Skandar—Skandar, thankfully, is just nodding. There's a look in his eyes that says he's figured out that whatever this is, it actually _is_ a big deal, and fortunately as he's grown up he's learned when to stop pestering.

Ben sort of wants to escape to the bathroom now, but he's aware that he's looking flustered enough as it is, and making a quick exit is just going to make things worse. So he sticks it out and laughs resignedly along with their jokes, pouring himself another drink and finding himself a space on the floor. Skandar turns the TV on after a little while to distract everybody, and Ben sends him a silent thank you with his eyes. 

He's still very aware of Georgie's gaze flickering his way every now and then, though. It seems like whenever he glances at her out of the corner of his eye, she's looking right back. He keeps his eyes steadfastly fixed on _Father Ted_ on the screen, but unfortunately, by some cruel twist of fate, it's that episode where all the priests end up lost in the lingerie section of a department store. _Can't I catch a break?!_ he thinks hysterically, and fails to even make it to the ad break before hurrying out of the room.

He just needs to be alone for a minute, his mind racing. The bathroom is small and messy, cluttered with toiletries, and it makes him feel claustrophobic so he doesn't shut the door all the way, just finds a blank wall to rest his head against and takes a deep breath. This is ridiculous. This is _so_ ridiculous.

Georgie appears in the doorway about a second later. He spots movement in his peripheral vision and he knows it's her, even before he straightens up to look. She gently pushes the door all the way open, looking curious.

"Just needed a moment," says Ben, feeling stupid.

"Right," says Georgie. She's smirking a little. "So," she says, "some girl wants you to do something kinky, eh?"

"I'm sorry," Ben blurts out. "I'm an idiot. I will never confide in Skandar again as long as I live."

He suddenly realises that the fact that Georgie now knows he called Skandar in the middle of the night, somewhat panicked about the situation, has probably given her a fair bit of insight into how he feels about the whole thing. Not that it seems to have made a whole lot of difference to her behaviour.

She's laughing. "A policeman's uniform though," she says, shaking her head. "I mean, really?"

"What?! Some people are into that!" says Ben indignantly, as if that's really what's important right now.

"Yeah, but not you," says Georgie, advancing on him, kicking the door with a little flick of her heel so it swings almost shut behind her. Ben feels trapped. " _You_ like wearing something a bit different."

Ben swallows, taking a step back.

"You're wearing them right now, aren't you?" Georgie asks, smiling slyly as she comes in close.

"No," says Ben, lying instinctively and knowing it's pointless. She gives him a doubtful look and he sighs, giving in. "All right, yes. How did you know?"

Georgie gives a little one-shouldered shrug, casual as anything. "Oh, all the squirming, the fiddling with your shirt and belt, the way you kept laughing in that deranged way when the priests were stuck in the underwear department..."

Ben is distressed to learn that he's nowhere near as subtle as he thought he was, but Georgie's just grinning. "It's okay," she says, rolling her eyes. "I'm sure the others haven't figured it out." She pats him gently on the arm and even the totally innocent touch makes him flinch. He's so busy being taken aback by that that he almost misses her murmured "...Lemme see?"

"Wha—" Ben's mouth seems very dry all of a sudden. He can barely get words out. "Georgie..." he attempts.

"C'mon."

He feels lightheaded. Georgie is really very close to him now. She smells a little like vodka but mostly like caramel, candy-sweet. 

"C'mon..." she says again, and this time she's reaching out, pushing up his shirt just a little, and Ben tenses up immediately. The touch of her hand is another shock, a harsher one, her cool fingers brushing his heated skin. 

"Okay, fine, fine," he says, nervy. He'll do anything to make her to stop touching him right now, because it's making him feel like he could explode. He pushes her hands away and steps back again, finds himself pressed up against the wall now, the tile cold against his back. He reaches down to undo his belt and zipper, his fingers clumsy and quick. He catches a glimpse of Georgie biting her lip and then he shuts his eyes and tilts his head back against the wall, spreading open his fly. Exposing himself.

For a moment all he can hear is the sound of the TV and the others chattering next door, as well as his own blood rushing in his ears. And then Georgie says softly, "Oh, the stripey pink ones."

Ben forces himself to take a deep breath, and nods.

"I wasn't sure if you'd like those," Georgie goes on, her voice hushed but oddly conversational. "They seemed a bit, well...girly."

"They're _knickers_ ," says Ben, in disbelief, laughing hollowly. This is all so surreal.

"Yeah, but you know what I mean." Ben still hasn't opened his eyes, he can't bring himself to. He's pretty sure he's blushing. He feels very, very hot. "It's okay, you know," says Georgie quietly, reassuringly. "I like that you like them."

Ben says nothing, holding his breath. He's hypersensitive, feeling like he's waiting for her to touch him again, waiting to feel that sudden brush of her fingers. Would she? Or is this still just some kind of twisted game she's playing? He doesn't know, but right now it definitely doesn't feel like one. Right now, it feels like anything could happen, and he's just standing here, unsteady on his feet, waiting for it.

But just then there's a sudden loud _SMASH_ from the other room, some sort of commotion, everyone's voices so loud they could be right outside the door. Ben jerks away from the wall instantly, getting his jeans done back up lightning-fast and gaping at Georgie, horror-struck. Georgie is laughing but she looks startled too, shaken.

"Sorry!!" Skandar's yelling. "Anna knocked a bottle off the counter!"

"It's okay!" Anna's shout comes just after his. "I'm cleaning it up!"

Georgie laughs again. "Okay!" she yells back. She meets Ben's eyes and Ben smiles at her, a little guilty, a little stunned. "Honestly," mutters Georgie, rolling her eyes, "we leave them unsupervised for five minutes..."

"I know," says Ben, fumbling with his belt. His heart is somewhere in the region of his throat and he's sweating more than he thinks is strictly necessary. He laughs and it sounds faintly hysterical. "They really can't be trusted."

"No, clearly we're the only responsible ones," Georgie says facetiously, grinning. She's moving in close again. "Anyway..." she says, trailing off.

"Georgie," Ben says, a vague admonishment. "We should—"

"Yeah," she interrupts him. "I know. I just..."

She cuts herself off by kissing him, and this time isn't like the others, this time is—messy, and fierce, her small mouth saccharine-sweet, her tongue hot and insistent. Ben can barely gather his senses enough to kiss her back, too bewildered, one hand clutching her waist and the other flailing out to his side and grappling at a towel rail. She doesn't seem to mind, holding him firmly by the hips, kissing him deep. It feels like she's making a point. The whole time her tongue is in his mouth, he can hear Anna giggling, Will P. saying there must be a dustpan and brush _somewhere_ , the clatter and bang of somebody searching through cupboards.

Georgie pulls away, biting her lip again. Her eyes flicker behind her glasses. "Okay," she says, suddenly businesslike, though her voice sounds very slightly hoarse. "Sounds like they need help."

Ben blinks at her. 

"Come on, then," she says, taking his hand, and Ben's brain is so addled that all he can do is allow himself to be dragged back towards the party, where everyone is tip-toeing around Georgie's kitchen in drunken hysterics, trying to avoid the broken glass that's scattered across the tiles.

Somehow, miraculously, no one ends up getting hurt. Even more miraculously, no one seems the slightest bit suspicious of Ben and Georgie's disappearance. (Ben supposes that from their point of view, there's no reason to be, but all that does is make him feel even more guilty.)

Once the kitchen has been cleared up, Will—ever the Dad of the group—announces that it's probably best if they all go to bed.

"Good idea," says Georgie, yawning. "Time for jammies!"

She disappears into her bedroom, leaving the others to root through their bags for pajamas and toothbrushes. Anna goes off to the bathroom while the boys all start changing where they are, and Ben hangs around awkwardly, realising he can't exactly strip off right here in front of them without revealing the truth about his secret. So instead he just dithers for a bit, fishing his phone out of his bag and pretending to text until Anna returns from the bathroom, and then he legs it in there and locks the door before any of the others have a chance. He peels his jeans and knickers off hurriedly, replacing them with the pajama bottoms he brought, and stuffs the knickers right down to the very bottom of his bag. In all the stress of leaving for the party, he never actually got around to packing a change of underwear, so he's either going to have to put them right back on again tomorrow morning or go commando, but he decides to cross that bridge when he comes to it.

He leaves the bathroom to discover that Will P. is brushing his teeth at the kitchen sink, and Anna is curled up in the very centre of all the bedding on the floor, in her nightie, looking like she's not willing to move again for a very long time. Will and Skandar say something to Ben about him taking too long as they head off towards the bathroom, but Ben isn't really listening, because Georgie is perched on the edge of the table, combing her hair and wearing a faded Rolling Stones t-shirt that looks remarkably similar to one Ben lost recently.

"Hey!" he exclaims, all thoughts of the kiss forgotten, at least for a second. "You're stealing my clothes now?"

Georgie looks down at it as if she needs to check. It's definitely Ben's—it's too big for her and he recognises a hole torn in the sleeve, courtesy of one of Skandar's cats. Georgie doesn't even _like_ the Stones. "Huh," she says, grinning at him cheekily. "I guess I am. Oh well, now we're even!"

Anna laughs a puzzled laugh. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," says Ben, a little too hurriedly, but thankfully Anna is too sleepy and drunk to follow up on it. "Um—so where exactly are we all sleeping?"

"Here, silly," says Georgie, leaping off the table and diving into all the pillows and duvets. "That's kind of what all this is for."

Ben is doubtful. " _All_ of us?" True, there is an awful lot of bedding spread out across the floor, and they have shared beds in the past, but not all of them at once and certainly not since everybody finished growing. "We won't fit."

"Where there's a will, there's a way," Georgie says determinedly, and then cracks up. "And hey, we've got _two_ Wills."

Ben can't help but laugh (the Will jokes still get him even now, and besides, her laughter is always infectious) but he's still rather doubtful. He's not exactly going to go sleep in _her_ bed, though (especially since he suspects it's been stripped completely bare) so he just gives a resigned sigh and clambers on next to Anna. Will P. follows Ben's lead, tentatively crawling onto the makeshift bed and attempting to make himself as small as possible, which is no easy feat considering he's even taller than Ben these days. Once Will and Skandar join them, they all have to do quite a bit of rearranging, and everybody fights for sheets and thin blankets to pull over themselves. In the end they manage it, and despite all the limbs everywhere and the lumpiness of the surface beneath Ben's body and the strangeness of lying so close to Georgie after what's happened tonight, it's surprisingly cosy.

Ben fumbles with a flowery sheet, trying to get it to cover more than just his feet, and settles against the cushion he's resting on, smelling the familiar scent of Georgie's fabric conditioner. He takes a deep breath. It's funny that they're all close enough to do this, considering their varying ages and the fact that they really don't see each other all that often anymore, but there's always been this aspect to their friendship that Ben thinks must come from having lived in each other's pockets for months at a time on a movie set. Things like that make it easy to get attached, to become dependent on physical proximity. They maybe should have grown out of it by now, Ben thinks, but alcohol makes it easy to slip back into old habits.

At one point he wakes up to discover that somebody's foot is dangerously close to his mouth and that there's a weird weight pressing down on his stomach that turns out to be a head, but all in all, it's really not so bad, and he's so exhausted from the events of the previous night that it's not long at all before he's dozing off again.

***

Ben is the first to wake up properly in the morning, and the first thing he's aware of is a very claustrophobic and sweaty feeling. Dazed, he carefully manages to extract himself from the pile of tangled sleeping bodies, and as soon as he's standing up he feels a wave of nausea come over him. He remembers drinking various types of alcohol last night, and rather a lot of each one. He mostly remembers beer, but also some very good champagne, and he's pretty sure he recalls almost choking on some wine at one point, and being persuaded to take a sip of some sickly-sweet vodka—

In a flash he remembers tasting that very same taste in Georgie's mouth, and involuntarily brings his fingers to his lips, looking back down at the heap of everybody-else in front of him. In the dim sunlight seeping through the thin curtains, he can see that Georgie is sleeping peacefully with her head pillowed on Will P.'s chest and his fingers tangled in her hair, and she looks disconcertingly innocent. For a moment everything that happened last night seems like it could have simply been a dream.

Ben sighs, stumbling off towards the kitchen in search of food. What he's really craving is pancakes—they've always been a comfort food to him, for some reason—and to his surprise Georgie actually has a packet of flour in one of her cupboards, so he downs a couple of glasses of orange juice and then gets to work mixing up some batter.

Random memories from last night keep popping into his head. He remembers Skandar and Will P. dancing goofily around the room to Daft Punk's new song, everybody passionately arguing about which of the Angels was the hottest...Anna laughing particularly hard at something and accidentally spilling half her egg-fried rice on one of the quilts, which Georgie insisted didn't matter because she'd stolen that one from one of her sisters anyway. At one point, he's pretty sure Will asked if that was a truncheon in his pocket or if he was just happy to see him, but in his current state of hungover confusion that memory makes very little sense.

Mostly, though, his mind is full of Georgie. Georgie singing along to Ke$ha at the top of her lungs, using her half-empty beer bottle as a microphone. Georgie gently working her fingers through Anna's long hair, being careful not to tug too hard. Anna telling him how good Georgie is in bed. Georgie asking him to show her his underwear. Georgie kissing Anna. Georgie kissing _him_ , so boldly, and making the bottom of his stomach drop out.

He can hear the sounds of the others stirring, and he peeks around the corner to see that both Skandar and Georgie are sitting up, Georgie looking rather rumpled and confused, squinting back at him.

"What are you doing?" she asks, her voice a little croaky from sleep.

"Oh," says Ben, suddenly feeling slightly awkward. He didn't really think about it, too preoccupied with a barrage of other thoughts, but he supposes it was a bit rude to just start helping himself to ingredients from her kitchen. "I'm, uh, making pancakes."

Thankfully, both Georgie and Skandar look thrilled.

"You _are_?" she cries, leaping up and ignoring the ensuing grumbles from the still-sleeping occupants of the makeshift bed. As soon as she's on her feet, she suddenly claps a hand to her forehead, wincing.

"Headache?" asks Ben sympathetically, and she groans and nods. "Yeah, me too."

"I don't think we were drinking very responsibly last night," says Skandar.

"Well, of course we weren't," says Georgie matter-of-factly. "It was my birthday party."

Ben goes back to his pancakes, still clinging to the futile hope that if he keeps himself busy maybe he can keep himself distracted as well. But, no luck—Georgie is padding into the kitchen with him, hovering around and offering to help. She's too hungover to be that talkative but even her presence makes him jumpy as she busies herself with the task of setting the table. Ben has this horrible lingering guilty feeling that keeps nagging at him, and he can't even pinpoint what it _is_ , exactly. He knows that Georgie initiated everything last night but, even so.

"By the way," she says at one point, so suddenly that it startles him, "I don't mind about the present. I feel like you're beating yourself up about it and I don't want you to."

"Oh," says Ben stupidly. "Um, okay."

"Like, honestly, it really doesn't matter. It was a good present. And," she says, grinning mischievously and playfully bumping her hip up against his, "you gave me another one that was even better."

Ben just gapes at her, speechless. It takes a second for the words to sink in, because he can't quite believe that she's so blatantly referencing what happened in the bathroom, apparently not caring that the others are just around the corner. In fact, Skandar wanders in right then, before Ben has a chance to respond, and Ben just looks away from Georgie hurriedly and gets back to the pancakes, discovering that this batch is now rather burnt on one side.

Gradually, the others all wake up and manage to make it to the dining table, grumbling at first about their headaches and the cricks in their necks from sleeping in odd positions, but then quickly cheering up when Ben starts sliding stacks on pancakes onto their plates. Will P. tells him he's a legend and everybody eagerly gobbles up the pancakes and rehydrates with practically all of the juice Georgie has in her fridge, but Ben discovers that he can barely eat.

Everyone seems to have reasons to leave pretty soon after breakfast, to Ben's surprise. He kind of assumed they'd spend a few hours lazing around, but it turns out it's already the afternoon and everybody except him and Anna has somewhere to be. Will has an early flight back to L.A. tomorrow morning so he has to go home and pack, Skandar's got some family dinner thing, and Will P. doesn't seem to have an actual reason but once the others start packing up, he says he'd better be off too. It all seems to happen very quickly and before Ben knows it, it's just him, Anna, and Georgie.

Ben excuses himself to go get dressed in the bathroom, choosing to wear nothing under his jeans instead of the knickers this time. He wonders whether the girls expect him to leave—maybe they want some time alone?—but he can't seem to think of a decent reason to get going, because he has absolutely zero plans, and he doesn't want it to seem like he's rushing away. When he comes back, Georgie and Anna are murmuring unintelligibly to each other and stop short when they notice him, which doesn't exactly help him feel more at ease.

"Mind if I have a shower, George?" Anna asks brightly, getting up from the dining table.

"'Course not," says Georgie, and Anna disappears down the hall. Ben can't help noting that she doesn't need to ask Georgie how the shower works. 

Georgie pats the chair beside her and Ben sits down in it, slightly reluctant but obedient. If he thought things seemed awkward with the three of them, he's pretty sure it's even worse now that it's just him and Georgie. She hasn't gotten dressed yet and she looks sleepy and cosy in his baggy t-shirt. They sit there in silence for a moment and then they hear the sound of the shower turning on in the bathroom.

"So," says Georgie immediately, "Anna tells me you were interrogating her about our sex life last night."

Ben would be startled, but he was pretty much expecting something along these lines as soon as he sat down. Still, that doesn't mean he deals with it in even a remotely elegant way.

"What?!" he exclaims. "No I wasn't! Well, I mean—I asked her a couple of things but it wasn't—it wasn't like _that_."

"What was it like?" Georgie asks, grinning. She's sipping from a can of Cherry Tango and Ben wonders how she can stomach it right now.

"I was just asking how things were going with you two," says Ben.

"How things are going with us two in _bed_ ," Georgie corrects him.

"Listen," says Ben, flustered, "I was—I was a little drunk and the conversation may have gotten slightly out of hand and I'm sorry about that but—"

"I didn't say it was anything to apologise for," Georgie counters, shrugging. She takes a long slurp from her drink, and then adds, "She said you were particularly interested in the subject of my strap-on."

"I—that's—well—" Ben babbles for a bit. Truth be told, he can't entirely _remember_ how the conversation with Anna went, but he's pretty sure he wasn't asking her for all kinds of lewd details, so either Anna or Georgie (or both of them) must be exaggerating to wind him up. At least, he really hopes that's the case.

"She said it went past the boundaries of like normal curiosity and straight into unhealthy obsession," Georgie goes on conversationally. 

_Dammit Popplewell,_ thinks Ben viciously. Maybe she didn't say any of this with the expectation of Georgie relaying it back to Ben, or maybe she didn't say any of it at _all_ , but even so, Ben wishes he could say something to embarrass her in return. Unfortunately the only time he can remember her seeming really embarrassed is when she said Georgie gives her the best orgasms she's ever had, and _that's_ not exactly something he's willing to repeat right now. Besides, Georgie would probably just be more flattered than anything.

"I literally asked her like, two questions," Ben continues to try and defend himself. "And I think they were things like 'what?' and 'really?'"

"She said it wasn't so much what you _said_ as how you _acted_ ," says Georgie, holding up her hands up as if to say 'don't shoot the messenger'. "And you know how perceptive Anna can be."

She has a point there. Ben is stumped.

"So what's the deal?" Georgie goes on, smirking. "Why so curious?"

"I'm _not_ ," Ben insists, laughing nervously. He doesn't even know why this conversation is making him so anxious but it is; he's fidgeting with the hem of his shirt and he can't stop.

"Go on, what is it?" Georgie nudges him in the ribs with a sharp elbow and Ben sort of squeaks in a rather undignified way. She's giggling, definitely just winding him up but it still makes him squirm. "What, are you jealous? Of my prowess? Oooh, or—" an idea suddenly seems to occur to her, "—of _Anna_? What, you want me to use it on _you_?"

"NO!" Ben yelps, and it's so excessively loud and defensive that he suddenly realises what was making him so anxious: the thought that she might figure him out. The thought that she might realise what he only just realised himself. _That he wants her to fuck him._

Georgie is still giggling though, apparently oblivious to his sudden and bewildering revelation, too busy enjoying the rise she's getting out of him. She pokes him in the stomach and he goes tense. That _is_ what he wants. That's what he's wanted for a long time now, probably from the very moment he stumbled across the stupid thing in her suitcase.

"Yeah, is that what it is?" Georgie's still teasing. "You're jealous of the girls I have sex with? You wanna put your dress and knickers on and get f—"

Ben has his hand clamped over his mouth before he even realises what he's doing. He's blushing so hard that he feels like he's burning up, feverish, his skin damp with sweat, and his heart's pounding so fast it's making it hard to think. He freezes, suddenly realising what he's doing, looking at his large hand covering half of Georgie's face and her wide blue eyes staring back at him in total shock and amazement.

Sheepishly, Ben takes his hand away, and looks down at his lap. There isn't really any way to recover from that one.

"Oh, my god," says Georgie, her voice suddenly hushed. "Do you _actually_ —?"

Ben can't make words. There's no point in lying now, but he's barely had a chance to even admit this to himself, so he can't exactly find a way to admit it to _her_. And what the hell would happen if he did?

Thankfully—or not so thankfully—they're interrupted at that moment by Anna swanning in from the bathroom wrapped in a rainbow-striped towel, a puzzled look on her face.

"Hey," she says. "Sorry, am I interrupting something?"

"NO," says Ben, his voice much too loud again as he leaps up from the table, narrowly avoiding knocking Georgie's Tango over in the process. He grapples with it and manages to keep it upright. "I was just saying that I have to go," he says. "Just remembered an—appointment." 

He's too flustered to come up with any further details, so he just brushes past Anna and hurries over to grab his bag. He just barely registers Anna's bag lying next to his and notices a book sticking out of it, one he recognises from last night, half-covered by clothes. Maybe he would find it funny or endearing under any other circumstances, but right now just the word _SEX_ leaping out at him from the cover sends him into even more of a frenzy and he almost trips over his own shoes.

"Um," says Georgie in a small voice, and Ben is vaguely surprised that she seems almost as flustered as he feels. "So—bye then!"

"Yeah, uh," says Ben, struggling to get his shoes on without falling over, "I'll be in touch. Sorry. In a rush. Really have to—" he yanks the second shoe on with force and finally succeeds, "—go. Sorry."

"Good to see you?" says Anna, looking at him like he's completely lost it.

"Yeah, yeah," says Ben, edging out of the room. "Great party."

He hurries down the hallway, feeling vaguely sick. He can hear Anna saying quietly to Georgie, "Is it just me, or is Ben acting weird lately?"

A tiny pause, and then Georgie's voice answers, dismissively, "Ben's always weird."

"Yeah, but like _especially_ —"

"Do you really wanna talk about Ben right now?" Georgie interrupts.

Anna says "No..." and her voice sounds sort of breathy, and the last thing he hears is the two of them giggling before he finally reaches the front door and grasps the handle and gets the hell out of there.

***

At this point, Ben basically has two choices. Either he thinks this thing through and figures it out (whatever the hell _that_ entails) or he avoids thinking about it entirely and never speaks to Georgie again. When he puts it that way, his choice is pretty easy. Or at least, easier.

He does attempt the second tactic for the first few days, desperately trying to put all thoughts of the party out of his mind, distracting himself every time his thoughts start going down a dangerous path. But it quickly becomes clear that he needs to get to the bottom of this, if only for the sake of his own sanity.

And so he finds himself touching himself and thinking of her—very purposefully, encouraging the thoughts instead of frantically trying to push them aside like he may have done in the past. He lies there naked under the sheets, just gently easing himself back into the state of mind he's been trying so hard to avoid without even realising it. He thinks about the knickers and the dress first. He doesn't want to put them on, because it's not about that right now, but just thinking about wearing them is enough to get him a little bit excited. He thinks about Georgie leaving the dress with him and waiting to see what would happen. He thinks about her sending him the knickers, telling him to put them on, asking if he liked them. He thinks about her asking to see them and he sucks in a sharp breath, squirming slightly under the covers, but forces himself to keep going.

He thinks about the way she kissed him, so self-assured and so _eager_. When he thinks about the way she held onto his hips so firmly, he starts to get hard, bringing a tentative hand down between his legs. He thinks about her fucking him. It's kind of an abstract idea at first, but it rapidly becomes much more clear and defined, as though somewhere in the back of his mind these thoughts were always dwelling, just patiently waiting for him to let them loose. He can imagine the pressure of her hands on his hip as she thrusts into him. Pushing aside the negative thoughts—the ones telling him how stupid this is, how gross he's being—he fumbles for a small bottle of lube from the drawer in his nightstand, and is surprised to find that his hands are shaking a little as he slicks up one finger. Settling back, he lifts and bends his legs. He feels hot and nervous even though he's all on his own and Georgie doesn't even need to know about this if he doesn't want her to. He still feels guilty thinking about her like this, but something about their conversation makes him feel like she's indirectly given him permission. And it makes him feel like it's something he _needs_ to think about, if only to figure out if he really does want it. 

He doesn't know what'll happen if it turns out he _does_ , but he's not going to worry about that just yet.

He's gentle with himself and he wonders if she would be, too. If she would finger him open first, taking her time. He assumes she does that with the girls she sleeps with and he wonders if she can make them come from that alone. He wonders if she could make _him_ come from that alone, but that's not what he's truly curious about. What he really wants to know is how she would fuck him and what it would feel like. Whether she would want him on his back, like this, or maybe—fuck—on all fours? He squirms, kicking the sheets off him, getting too hot. He turns his head to bury his face in his pillow, one hand steadily stroking his cock and the other still teasing lower. 

He wonders what it is that makes Anna think Georgie's so good. She must be significantly better than the guys Anna's slept with, and Ben finds it hard to believe that Anna's had the misfortune of experiencing exclusively terrible lovers. Besides, if Georgie is to be believed, there are other conquests too, and not just inexperienced sixth form girls but (at least) one other woman around Anna's age. He wonders if Georgie has some kind of special technique. If she would be careful and attentive with him or maybe—maybe she'd be rougher, because he's a man and he's older and maybe she would think he could take it. He wonders if he _could_ take it.

He wants to find out.

He comes with two fingers inside himself and his fist moving erratically around his cock, and his thoughts don't stray from Georgie even once.

***

It's a full week before he hears from her, and this time he's willing to admit he's keeping track. It's evening and he's sitting on his bed trying to read a script he's been sent, and either it's incredibly boring or he's incredibly preoccupied or both, because he can't seem to take in a single word. He lunges for his phone on the bedside table when it buzzes, thrilled to see her name on the screen.

Her text seems guilty and apologetic. It reads _really sorry if i upset you. i was just messing with you before._

Ben chews this over for a minute or two. _...Were you though?_ is what he goes with in the end.

There's quite a long pause then, long enough for Ben to start doodling an extremely intricate pattern on one of the pages of the script. It involves a lot of cramped and intense swirly things.

His phone buzzes again.

_depends if you wanted me to be or not._

Ben's heart is in his throat. Fuck it, it's now or never. He tosses the script aside. _Maybe I wanted you to be serious,_ he types back.

This time, the response is almost immediate. _maybe i was._

Ben stands up, for no reason other than the fact that his anxiety is giving him so much pent-up energy that he feels like he might burst if he keeps sitting still. He decides to pace around his room instead, turning his phone over and over in his hands, wondering what the fuck he should say in response to that. 'Oh, brilliant! So how about you fuck me up the arse then?' He laughs despairingly to himself, his head in his hands. His phone is in his hands too, so when it buzzes again it does it against his face and makes him jump.

 _wanna come over?_ Georgie asks, and Ben's heart skips a beat.

Ben would like to say that he responds with a cool 'sure', gathers his things together and heads on over there, but in reality what happens is that he spends several more minutes pacing around his room and fretting. She _must_ be serious, at this point, and logically he recognises that, but some part of him is still worried that they're playing the most insane game of chicken ever invented. 

He finally manages to get himself to stop pacing. _This is happening_ , he tells himself firmly. He rummages under his bed where he hides the dress and knickers. He finds an innocent looking shopping bag to bundle the dress into, and then picks out the purple pair of knickers, because if he's going to be wearing this get-up in front of somebody for the first time he may as well match. He barks out a laugh at how ridiculous everything is. He has some brandy somewhere and he momentarily considers pouring himself a small glass for some liquid courage, but it doesn't seem right. Instead, he impulsively goes and takes a shower, which does a pretty decent job of helping to relax him. He cleans himself very thoroughly, towel-dries his hair, and puts on a simple t-shirt and then some jeans with the purple knickers snugly hidden underneath. He stands in front of the mirror and takes several deep breaths.

He laughs again.

He shoves a few other things in his bag and leaves the flat before he loses his nerve.

***

"Oh!" says Georgie, looking surprised, but pleased, when she sees him standing there outside her door. "I was starting to think maybe you weren't coming."

It's only at that point that Ben realises, amongst all his fretting, he never actually responded to her text. "Shit," he says, which isn't the most brilliant greeting in the world, but he's feeling rather frazzled. "I meant to say I was. Sorry."

"That's okay. Come on in," Georgie steps aside and gestures to let him past. She's barefoot and dressed in some baggy flannel pajama bottoms and Ben's Rolling Stones t-shirt. She doesn't have any make-up on and her hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail, and he's surprised that she looks so _normal_. Which is stupid, really. What exactly was he expecting, for her to open the door in nothing but the strap-on? In her suit from the premiere? In some kind of raunchy lingerie? Ridiculous.

"Do you want a drink?" Georgie asks, leading him into the kitchen. There's an open bottle of beer on the worktop where she presumably left it when she went to answer the door, and Ben feels kind of stupid again for thinking there was some reason neither of them should drink before this. One beer won't exactly be dangerous.

"Dangerous?" Georgie says mockingly, giggling, and Ben realises that he said that out loud. Georgie gets him a bottle from the fridge, opens it for him and passes it over. Their hands brush. "You seem nervous," she says.

"I am nervous," Ben says, because at this point, he may as well just start being honest instead of attempting to deny everything like he has been so far.

Georgie picks her own beer up and takes a sip. She looks at him a little shyly. "I'm kinda nervous too," she admits.

Ben is equal parts relieved and disappointed. On the one hand it's extremely reassuring, but then again, if neither of them are feeling confident this whole thing could be an utter disaster. "But—you're okay with this, right?"

"Fucking you, you mean?" Georgie clarifies, raising her eyebrows and grinning at him cheekily.

Ben flushes. "Georgie."

"May as well just come out and say it," she shrugs, laughing. Ben takes a long pull at his beer, trying to calm down a little. "I am okay with it," Georgie adds after a moment. "I want to. I think I've wanted to for a while."

"Okay," says Ben. His voice sounds a bit hoarse. "That's good. Um. Same here."

"Uh huh."

Ben realises he's still holding the shopping bag and wonders what to do about it.

"Oh, did you bring—?"

"The dress, yeah. Is—is that okay?" Ben thinks he's blushing again. Maybe he never stopped. He'd never blushed so much in his life until all of this started. Absurdly, he finds himself wondering if he's even going to be able to get an erection if all his blood is busy hanging around in his face. He almost laughs, and takes another gulp of beer to stop himself.

"Yeah, I kind of hoped you would," says Georgie. She actually looks slightly pink herself. "You wanna go put it on?"

"Um. Yeah. Okay."

It's awkward to have to do it this way, and Ben resents that, but he wasn't exactly going to wear the dress on the tube over here. As soon as he shuts the bathroom door behind him he feels like he's overheating, so it's a relief to strip off the clothes that seem to be clinging to his body. He's clumsy and agitated as he yanks the dress out of the bag and pulls it over his head, but almost as soon as the soft fabric is brushing against his hot skin he feels himself starting to relax. He fumbles with the zip, feeling the dress constrict around his ribs, and he takes a shallow breath, glancing in the mirror. He runs the tap for a moment, gently splashing his face with cold water because he still feels much too hot and his cheeks have these ridiculous red splotches on them like he's wearing blusher or something. He takes another few sips of his beer, the coolness of it refreshing, and then places the bottle back on the edge of the sink.

He reaches under the dress to adjust the knickers, a shiver running down his spine. Obviously, he's done this before, but it makes such a difference to be doing it with the intent of _presenting_ himself to somebody. Suddenly it seems to matter what he actually _looks_ like, whether the label on the dress is sticking out or if the lace is wrinkled, and whether everything is properly contained down there.

When he opens the bathroom door Georgie is standing right on the other side of it, looking slightly sheepish. She's still dressed the same, but Ben immediately notices that there's a bulge in the crotch of her pajama bottoms that wasn't there before—she must have taken them off, put on the strap-on, and then put them back on again. It's oddly reassuring that she's done that, Ben thinks—there was still a part of him afraid that he might open the door to find her standing there with a camera and laughing at him. But instead she's just smiling at him a little shyly, her hands clasped a little awkwardly in front of her.

She tilts her head in the direction of her bedroom and he follows her in, and it's only then that he remembers he hasn't even seen it before. She hadn't bothered with giving everybody a tour at the party. It's messy and has a rather unfinished look to it because she only recently moved in—there are some boxes in a corner, books piled up haphazardly on the dresser, and nothing on the walls save for a wonky poster of Keira Knightley and a noticeboard. A folded square of lined paper is among the various things pinned to the board, and Ben can't make out the scribbled words but what catches his eye is a bright pink lipstick print right in the middle. A love letter, he thinks, and wants to laugh. The floor is cluttered and as he walks in he almost trips over what looks like a leopard print mini-skirt, clearly a few sizes too large to be Georgie's and besides, not exactly her style.

"Oh, sorry," says Georgie, bending over to pick it up. "My friend Alice came round the other night and left that by mistake, she _always_ forgets stuff—"

"Your 'friend'?" Ben can't help teasing, and Georgie makes a face at him.

"Oh, I'm sorry, were you admiring it?" She shoves it towards him, grinning and taunting him. "You wanna try it on?"

Ben laughs, backing away. The fabric smells strongly of perfume and he wrinkles his nose. "I don't know if animal prints are really my thing."

Georgie giggles and tosses the skirt over her desk chair. "Nah," she agrees. There's a pause and they suddenly seem to get a little shy with each other again. "That looks good on you though," she says quietly.

Ben sort of rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. I'm sure the chest hair really completes the effect."

"No, I mean it!" Georgie insists, seeming frustrated and embarrassed at the same time. "You look sort of. Well. Hot."

Ben might just about be able to handle ridicule, but he certainly can't handle _that_. "I do?" he says in a small voice. 

"Uh huh."

That doesn't make a whole lot of sense to Ben. Sure, wearing the dress turns him on, but he doesn't actually think he looks good in it. He supposes it's just so engrained in him that the idea of a man in a dress is comical—it makes it difficult to imagine anyone getting any other type of enjoyment from seeing him like this.

"You know, I—" says Georgie suddenly, looking slightly self-conscious. "I don't usually go for guys."

"I know," says Ben, laughing softly. "I'd...kind of picked up on that by now."

"No, but I mean like...really."

Ben doesn't really know how to handle the idea that he's the exception. "So pretend I'm a girl," he says, without thinking. Georgie quirks an eyebrow at him.

"All right, _darling_ ," she says, and it's half-sarcastic and half-not, and Ben finds himself wondering how many girls have been in the same position he's in right now, and how they felt. If their hearts were pounding like his is.

Georgie decisively turns and sits down on the edge of the bed, settling herself there, arms stretched out behind her, hands planted firmly on the mattress. She still looks so normal and Ben doesn't know why he keeps being caught off guard by that—she looks like any other teenage girl, just a _person_ sitting there in baggy pajamas, not some kind of lesbian seductress or a little lothario. It's really only the tented fabric of her trousers and the expectant way she's looking at him with her eyebrows raised that makes this feel different.

Ben goes to her because he feels like that's what she's expecting of him, and she parts her legs just a little and pulls him in between them, her hands cool and confident on the bare skin of the back of his thighs. He lets out a startled little laugh at the way she tugs him in, and she tilts her head up, and he bends down slightly, ducking his head. He's moving instinctively, simply responding to her body language, but then he second guesses himself and holds back at the last minute. She meets his eyes and gives the slightest nod before closing the distance between them, pressing her lips to his. 

Her hands slide up, rumpling the fabric of the dress, coming to rest on his waist as she opens her mouth just a little against his. She tastes familiar, already, and he wonders if that's right. At the moment it doesn't seem to matter. He feels himself relaxing under her touch, almost melting into her, letting out a shaky breath against her lips. She smiles in response and he echoes it, letting himself kiss her back this time instead of just allowing himself to be kissed. It was always too much of a shock before, over before he really had much of a chance to react. 

Her lips are soft and sure and she kisses like she means it. Ben's never exactly _thought_ about kissing girls fourteen years younger than him before, but if he had, he might have expected less confidence, more sloppiness perhaps. He might have thought she would let him lead. But of course, this is Georgie, and so she doesn't. 

Her hands trail gently back down from his waist to his arse and this time it makes him shiver a little. She breaks the kiss with a giggle at his reaction, and he flushes as she pushes the dress up this time to feel the way the knickers fit him, her small hands curious and explorative. Ben goes tense again as Georgie gently runs her fingers over soft silk and ruffles, taking her time. Up until now, his nerves have been distracting him from getting hard, but the way she's touching him is starting to get him there and he's so focused on that—the way his cock is slowly filling up inside the restraints of the knickers, the smooth fabric getting tighter around hypersensitive skin—that when Georgie suddenly gives his arse a tight squeeze he jumps a little.

She laughs at him, her grin cheeky as she shuffles back along the bed, tugging him down with her, hooking her hands behind his knees to pull him forward until he's almost straddling her. She lies back a little, propped up on her elbows, looking up at him, and he's not sure what to do, sort of hovering over her uncertainly on his knees, his back rigid.

"Hey," she says quietly. "This is okay, right?"

Ben exhales slowly. "Yeah." 

"Well, there's definitely _one_ part of you that's getting into it, anyway," Georgie teases, shooting a look at his crotch, and Ben glances down to see that the dress is billowing out just a little, giving him away.

"You're one to talk," he teases back, looking pointedly at the much more prominent bulge between Georgie's own legs. 

Georgie rolls her eyes at the joke, and, flopping back on the bed, she takes a hold of his hips again, gently but firmly easing him down until he's flush against her. He can feel the stiff shape of the dildo against him and he presses down against it, experimentally. He can't help thinking about how it's going to be _inside_ him soon and he still can't quite wrap his head around the idea. Georgie watches him for a moment and then suddenly sits back up, repositioning him with surprising ease. 

She spreads him out on his back, his head hitting a soft pillow, and somehow it feels more comfortable this way, being beneath her. She gives him a quick reassuring kiss on the lips before drawing back, kneeling between his legs, and Ben suddenly notices how heavily he's breathing and tries to quiet down. Georgie has a very focused look on her face as she gently eases his knees up, the skirt of the dress sliding up Ben's thighs and crumpling around his hips. Ben shuts his eyes and hears her make a little noise as the knickers are exposed. He knows how he must look, because it's a sight he's seen dozens of times before—his cock struggling to stay contained within the confines of the fabric once it's this hard, the head peeking out from the waistband, the delicate material strained over the stiff flesh. For a fearful moment he wonders if it's off-putting to Georgie, as she's presumably much more accustomed to finding something a little different down there, but then he feels her fingers brush against him, just lightly stroking the length of his cock through the silky fabric. Ben shudders at the sudden touch.

"Do you want me to leave them on?" she asks.

"Y-yeah."

"Okay." A pause, and then she's manhandling him again and Ben is a little concerned to discover that he's starting to enjoy that. She's getting him to lift his hips up a little so she can tug the knickers aside, so that when he settles back again the fabric stays pinned out of the way by his arse. It's very methodical and yet at the same time, nervewrackingly intimate—he can feel cool air against his arse now and it's giving him goosebumps. Georgie runs a soothing palm down from his thigh to his ankle.

"Okay?" she asks quietly.

Ben nods. His eyes are still closed, so he can only figure out what's happening from the movement and the sounds that follow—the bed judders as Georgie shifts to one side and then he can hear the slide of a drawer being opened somewhere beside his head, Georgie rummaging around in it, the click of it being closed again.

"Are you gonna open your eyes again anytime soon?" she asks, then, sounding amused.

Ben does, and is immediately reminded of why he shut them in the first place. "It's just—" he says, trying to articulate it, "—hard to handle...you know...seeing you like this."

Georgie rolls her eyes, but she looks sort of pleased. "Well, get used to it," she teases. She's holding a small pump-bottle of lube in her hand and Ben has to fight to keep his eyes on her as she expertly squeezes a little bit of the clear fluid onto two fingers and smoothes it along them, letting it adjust to her body temperature. She watches him too as she does it, looking sort of michievous in a way that's sort of disturbing and hot at the same time.

"Fuck," says Ben, in a quiet and vaguely pathetic sort of voice. 

She leans down over him again, between his open legs, and kisses him deeply. He's pretty sure she's trying to get him to relax, and it works, because he's so wrapped up in kissing her that he doesn't even tense up when he feels her fingers down between his legs. She strokes gently at first and then gradually applies more pressure, one fingertip moving in ever tighter circles, slicking him up until he's ready to take it in. She goes very slow—slower than she needs to, in fact, but he's grateful for it and for some reason he can't really process right now it feels good having her be so careful with him. Like he's just a delicate little thing instead of an older, stronger man. 

And she kisses him the whole time, even when he's too distracted by her finger working in and out of him to really respond—she doesn't seem to have any trouble at all concentrating on doing both at once.

"Hmm," she says thoughtfully then, smiling a little against his open lips, "not that much different, really." Something about the words makes Ben blush. (Oh great, more of _that_.) "Does it feel good?"

Ben tries to get a hold of himself enough to respond to this. He breathes in deeply through his nose, exhales through his mouth, and tries to say 'yeah' or even just 'uh huh', but in the end all he can manage is a nod. Georgie grins and carefully eases a second finger inside him, and his breath catches in his throat.

"How about that?" she asks, grinning in a smug sort of way because _clearly_ , she already knows the answer. "You're very tight," she adds, and she says it like it's just a casual observation but it makes Ben's brain come dangerously close to exploding.

He manages to force out, "Don't talk like that."

Georgie laughs, looking genuinely baffled. "Why not? You _are_."

"Georgie..." Ben wheedles.

"What? Do you not like it, or does it turn you on?"

" _Georgie._ "

She relents, at least for now, and concentrates on working him open with her nimble little fingers. She finds his prostate and the brief brush of a fingertip against it makes him gasp sharply, but she just murmurs something and pulls away. For a second he's confused, disappointed, but then he realises she probably just doesn't want him to come yet.

"Okay," she says softly, "do you think you can take me now?"

Ben has no fucking clue, but he knows he wants to try, so he just says, "Yeah," and swallows uneasily.

Georgie shucks her pajama bottoms quickly, yanking them down to reveal a black harness around her hips and a dildo jutting from the middle of it. It should maybe look extremely silly, but he can't help thinking that in an odd way it sort of suits her. Well, as much as a fake purple penis can suit anyone. Probably it's just that she looks quite comfortable in it, because she's used it a lot. That's a thought that he still can't shake from his mind.

As she settles back between his legs on her knees, the dildo bobs a little, curving up from beneath the hem of Ben's Stones t-shirt. Up close it suddenly looks a lot bigger than it did when he caught of a brief glimpse of it in her suitcase. That night suddenly seems a terribly long time ago. She busies herself preparing it, scrambling for the lube again and then stroking up and down the shaft until the firm silicone is glistening wet. Ben doesn't really want to acknowledge this but it's weirdly hot to watch—watching her hand twisting around the stiff length is making his own cock react and he can't help placing his hand over it where it's still (mostly) inside the knickers. He's so hard now that he's leaking pre-come and it's embarrassing because it's making the fabric all wet, creating an obvious dark patch on the pretty silk. 

Georgie wipes her hands and settles back over him again. She brushes her nose against his, a sort of nuzzle, and Eskimo kisses don't really seem terribly appropriate right now but then, _nothing_ about this is appropriate, and besides, Ben thinks, it's oddly comforting.

"Yeah?" Georgie murmurs.

"Yeah." Ben's voice comes out sounding kind of ragged. He feels strangely small all of a sudden as Georgie hitches his legs up, sliding her hands beneath his knees and guiding them up until his thighs are almost pressed to his chest. He wasn't previously aware that he was so bendy, but right now he's thankful for it, even though this is an incredibly vulnerable position to be in. He feels so exposed. The knickers shift around him from the movement, and Georgie giggles and tucks them aside again. She reaches down to grasp the base of the dildo, guiding it, and Ben takes a deep breath and prepares himself.

Clearly he isn't as ready as he thought he was, though, because her first attempt at pushing it inside of him isn't at all successful. 

"Sorry," he mumbles, trying to calm down a bit more.

"Don't apologise, it's okay," she says right away, holding back. "Do you need me to finger you some more?"

Ben makes a noise that sounds like "Ack," because her saying things like that really isn't helping him to get a handle on the situation. "No, just—gimme a second."

Georgie nods. She's looking at him very intently, her blue eyes sombre. It's all a bit too overwhelming and he can't stop thinking about the fact that this is _Georgie_ , Georgie who he's known since she was just twelve years old, a little ball of goofy energy, and here she is, a gorgeous young woman about to _fuck_ him. And here he is in a fucking dress and knickers, and the whole thing is making him so hard it's just plain crazy. He can't turn these thoughts off, but he can't exactly just roll with them, either.

"Just...relax," Georgie reminds him, her voice soft. She sounds slightly amused now but not in a mean way, sort of charmed more than anything, and when she says it like that she actually makes it sound easy. 

Ben breathes in and out slowly again and feels himself relax just a little bit, and almost right away he feels the head of the dildo slowly push inside of him. It makes him gasp. 

"Good girl," Georgie teases, and this time Ben makes a very embarrassing noise and clutches Georgie's t-shirt— _his_ t-shirt—bundling up a fistful of the threadbare fabric. Georgie hushes him and grins, showing her teeth as she eases herself deeper, stretching him. He can feel himself opening up around the dildo, letting it in, and it's—strange, but also really really good, so good that he's actually glad she's the one in control or else he'd probably go too fast too soon and make himself sore. As she sinks all the way in, Ben can't help moaning, and she smiles almost proudly at him.

"There you go," she coos, a little mockingly. "That wasn't so hard now, was it?"

Ben laughs, shaking his head in disbelief. "Fuck you," he murmurs before he can stop himself.

But Georgie just laughs too. "I think I'm the one doing the fucking, here," she points out.

"Yeah," says Ben quietly, slightly awed. He still can't quite believe it. "Yeah, I guess you are."

Georgie's still holding onto his legs, her palms tucked beneath his knees, but now she steadies her left hand against his chest, fingers absentmindedly stroking the lacy layer of the dress. She draws back from him, and Ben holds his breath as he feels the dildo sliding back out of him, feels the emptiness it leaves behind—and then she's pushing back in, a little quicker this time, filling him back up. The breath is forced out of him with the thrust and he hisses out a harsh "Fuck," which makes her grin at him with her tongue poking out between her teeth. 

He's been kind of clutching awkwardly at her duvet this whole time but he's hit by the sudden need to touch her, and reaches out to grab for her thigh, surprised by how strong it feels under his curved palm. She rocks back and then forth again, a shallow thrust, still letting him get used to the feel of the thing inside of him, and he's surprised by how good it feels already. Strange, definitely, but not at all painful—just big and unfamiliar. Apparently, though, it turns out that he likes that. Georgie seems to be able to tell, because she's speeding up in no time, gauging his reactions somehow. She builds up a rhythm almost effortlessly and Ben has to remind himself that she can't even really feel what she's doing, because she moves like the thing is a part of her and like she can actually feel him around it.

The waistband of the knickers is rubbing persistently against his cock and it's just enough friction to be frustrating, but the position they're in makes touching himself awkward, and anyway all he really wants to do is touch _her_. Somehow his hand has found its way under her shirt, and he's clutching at her waist, and the soft bare skin under his fingers gives him a strange thrill. He's essentially clinging to her but she doesn't seem to mind. She's straightened up now and is holding onto his thighs again as she sways her hips back and forth, her cheeks pink and her forehead damp with sweat, her hair falling loose from her ponytail and swishing around her face with her movements. He realises then that he's sort of gazing at her, but she tactfully hasn't mentioned it. 

Actually, she might not even have noticed. She's looking down at where they're joined instead, her brow furrowed and her mouth open. She looks turned on. It takes him a moment to recognise the expression because he's not exactly used to seeing it on _Georgie_.

She's starting to fuck him harder now and she pushes his legs even more until his knees are practically touching his shoulders. He's barely aware of the ache in his thighs that this causes, because Georgie's leaning down over him again, pressing herself to him and really pounding into him, her stomach rubbing up against his cock with every buck of her hips. 

"Too much?" she asks. She's breathless with the effort and he's never heard her voice sound like that before.

"No," Ben manages to choke out, "no—it's good, I—fuck—"

Actually, it _might_ be too much, because he's finding it incredibly hard to cope with, completely overwhelming, but that doesn't mean he wants it to stop. He clutches at her arms tightly and she dips her head and kisses his neck, her mouth hot, her teeth grazing his throbbing pulse. Ben keeps making these little broken sounds that he can't seem to stop no matter how hard he tries to shut up and Georgie is holding him and panting against his throat, and she's so _deep_ inside him, he can feel it everywhere, arousal shooting through his every nerve.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he chants repeatedly, and Georgie tilts her hips up just the tiniest bit, alters the angle just so and suddenly stars are exploding behind Ben's eyelids and he's stunned speechless like he's had the wind knocked out of him, breaking off abruptly mid-curse and feeling his whole body shudder beneath her.

And then it happens _again_ and Georgie's reminding him to breathe, cupping his face with one hand. He opens his eyes to see her face only about an inch from his, blurry but beautiful. She's smiling brilliantly like she doesn't even know that she's taking him apart right now, or—perhaps more accurately—like she _does_ , and she's thrilled about it.

"Are you gonna come?" she asks.

Somehow, Ben remembers how to speak. "If you keep doing that I fucking am," he forces out.

"You swear a lot more in bed," she observes playfully, biting her lip, but she keeps it up, hitting his prostate every few thrusts now and driving him crazy. She might say something else after that but everything is rapidly becoming a blur and Ben shuts his eyes again and just goes with it, feeling his orgasm rapidly barrelling down on him. At some point he finds himself moving with her, the two of them grinding into each other, and it's messy and desperate, Georgie's sweet-smelling hair plastered across his face and their clothes soaked with sweat and clinging together. 

Her mouth is open against his jaw when he comes and he's gripping her arms so tight, all his muscles seeming to lock up. He feels himself spurting hot and wet between their bodies and Georgie rides him through it until he's got nothing more to give, until he's stopped clenching and trembling and has just gone still and limp. She stays inside him for a moment more and he feels her kiss him on the cheek before she slowly eases the dildo out and peels herself off of him. His legs seem to be stuck in their current position so she has to encourage them back down off his chest. They ache like hell as he straightens them out and he's also very aware of the dress and knickers clinging to him, both soaked with his come. When Georgie comes back into focus he realises she has a conspicuous wet patch on her t-shirt too.

She yanks the shirt off by its neckline, tossing it onto the floor, and then reaches down to unscrew the dildo from its harness, placing it to one side. She flops down on the bed beside him heavily. "So," she says after a dazed moment.

"So," says Ben. Everything is tingly and sparkly still and doesn't feel entirely real.

"That happened."

Ben is still not totally sure that he believes it. "Did it?"

Georgie laughs at him, rolling over onto her side. "Yep." She looks him up and down, apparently surveying what a complete mess he is. She quirks an eyebrow. "You okay?"

For some reason Ben's response to this is to burst out laughing—endorphins, or whatever—but luckily instead of deeming him a lunatic and getting away from him, Georgie just goes with it.

"I'm gonna take that as a yes," she says happily, snuggling up to him. Her bare breasts press against his arm. "So do you finally believe that I'm good in bed now?"

"I—yes," says Ben. "You have a real talent," he adds, somewhat dryly.

Georgie snorts. "Why, thank you. And _you_ look really good in girls' clothes, so I guess everyone's a winner here."

"If you say so." Ben glances down at the dress, which is very wrinkled and sticky. "Oh, god," he says suddenly, "I just realised that this is still technically stolen. Did the designer just give up asking for it back?"

"Oh, no, I just told him some guy with a crossdressing fetish nicked it from me," says Georgie, yawning.

Ben blinks at her. "You're kidding, right?"

"What?" says Georgie innocently. "It got him off my back. And now you get to keep it."

"Georgie!"

"Oh Ben, come on," Georgie giggles, "don't get your knickers in a twist."

Ben would retaliate in some way, he really would, but right now he's far too sleepy and satisfied to bother expending the energy. All he can do is laugh.

***

A week later, just when Ben is beginning to think they've got this whole thing out of their system, another package shows up. This time it's too big to fit in his mailbox and he has to take it from the postman personally, and as soon as he recognises Georgie's neat handwriting on the front he flushes as if the postman might somehow know what could be inside. He fumbles with it on his way back into his flat, and hurriedly slices through carefully-applied parcel tape to open it up. There's no note this time, just a swathe of colourful tissue paper inside.

The tissue paper is wrapped around a corset.

 _Really?_ he texts her.

 _i know you better than you know yourself benjamin,_ is the reply, and Ben can't help but admit that this is probably true.


End file.
